Has he given you the tools?" "He has," replied Bess, producing the handkerchief. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. “It’s settled. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. But, it can't be helped.
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