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Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. His five o’clock shadow was bristly against her fingers. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. The pistol was lowered slightly. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. Once he chuckled aloud. She felt herself getting into a corner. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. “No,” she answered, reluctantly.
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