Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. Paul's are his work.
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