The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. " "Did he owe you money?" "Oh, no!" "Then why do you wish to know?" Ah Cum pondered. .
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