” She felt strange confessing herself to a criminal attorney. The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. He fixed it. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. “How well and jolly you must be feeling. You are too kind. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. And what a noise they made! This is how I used to call them.
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