She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. He stopped abruptly before the apparently incurious Chinaman. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. . “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully.
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