’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. Then she saw him. ” She shook her fist ceilingward.
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