I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. Mac, she's the honestest human being I ever saw or heard of; and at the same time she is velvet over steel.
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