It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. Her likeness to her sister gave him at first almost a shock; a moment afterwards he was conscious of a wonderful sense of relief. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. White said. ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other.
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