She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. “Let me think,” said Ann Veronica. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. Oh, God!” Rhea sniffed the air through two gaping nostrils that had eroded through her onion skin flesh.
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