‘Alors, I see how is this. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. But it sounds too real to be imagined. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles.
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