It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. It said: Got news for you about J. ’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes. “Mind my smoking?” said Roddy.
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