The pistol was lowered slightly. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, advanced towards her languidly. Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him. “I have learned that. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. ” “Well, fuck you too.
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