Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. “Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing.
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