Later. I'll tell you what. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness.
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