Even in death, Vorsack was not a man. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. It was drafty and cold most of the time, but she found that she was not nearly as sensitive to the cold as long as he was 99 there to warm her up.
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