\"God, it's too curly for a brush. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. "I'm sorry," she said.
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