Sir John stood upon the threshold. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. It was possible that his first impressions had not been correct.
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