“Come on. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. “Your mother was a Gypsy. ” His eyes were closed. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. She showered after she heard the door shut and the cars pull out of the driveway. " "You'd better take care of your mother's son instead," rejoined Blueskin. He was there concealed, waiting her return.
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