She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. My own impression is that he already knows. Go on and tell me. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie.
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