Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. She wormed her way past Sebastian, glanced at her mother’s blackened face, her obscenely naked body bulging with yellow and black buboes under the arms and in the groin that oozed stinking fluid. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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