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This one had little flowered patterns on them, and tied at the back.Jim asked me a question ... I didn't hear it.I shook my head and looked at Jim."Sorry, what?" I said.Jim used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the sleeping girl."Sorry Jim, I was somewhere else, what did you say?" The girl, John, the girl, Thompson says it's okay to wake her. I'd like you to talk to her; she's closer to your age."I looked at the sleeping girl. She looked young. Maybe even teenager young."How old is she anyway?"Jim took the clip board from Thompson."Her profile here says her name is Sarah Gale. She's nineteen years old and a resident of the United Kingdom." So we have a British teenager on our hands?" I asked, trying desperately to keep the quiver out of my voice."Looks like."I swallowed hard. This would have to happen sometime, might as well be now."Wake her up Dr. Thompson." I said halfheartedly.Thompson nodded.He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a stick of Loxicodile. It was sort. She lay awake at night, weak from hunger, worn from worry, trying to ignore her fleabites and the constant rattling cough of a nearby child. The cellar air was sickly, every breath Rose took was already inhaled and exhaled by a score of other people. With only a few cents remaining, the letter from Kathleen finally came. Rose, Come tomorrow morn to the back entrance. I’ve had a word with the butler, Mr. Burton. Don’t let his gruff ways put you off. He’s a good sort. He’ll give you a job. Kathleen The sun chased away the early morning damp as Kathleen made her way uptown to the Bordune home. The squalor of the Five Points gave way to busier avenues, the sidewalks thronged with people all walking briskly, everyone with an urgent place to be and too little time to get there. Weak from days without eating, Rose’s uptown trek became a test of will. Her shoulders stooped. Her feet dragged. When she reached a neighborhood of stately homes, her legs buckled. She held onto a wrought.
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