But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. They had refused. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. Her lips were dry and cracked. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily.
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