Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. What’s that?” They both stood listening. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. “I am going to fetch some things that will be wanted if he pulls through the next hour.
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