“Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. Give up your lonely hours of work here. “The father was in the army, and got a half-pay job at St. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily.
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