His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. "For ever!" said the thief-taker, preparing to follow. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano.
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