‘It is not your affair. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night. The winters were terrible in cold climates, and she often had been driven to dig herself large underground pits where she waited it out like a mole in the cold months. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall.
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