There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. It was impossible. \" She opened her eyes widely, as to better appear unworldly and unscathed. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers.
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