Then she would be dead, and that was no use. “Uh, I think I might, Shari. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink.
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