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She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. " Spurlock grew limp in his chair. Michelle ate fast, and Lucy followed her lead, shoveling mashed potatoes and salmon down her gullet in a passionless frenzy. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion.
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