It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. She positioned it over her arm, placing the firing end in Rhea’s mouth. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. He hated the taste of it. “Here is my card. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez. "Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him.
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