‘You’ll make shadows. You are in danger. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. ’ ‘What sort of “down on your luck”?’ asked Alderley. I kicked the living shit out of him. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry.
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