For a moment Susan only stood as she was, with her palms against the rough cold stone of the sewing room wall. They had to stay put; it was too late to move without being heard. The old woman passed her hands over Susan’s breasts, flicked lightly at the nipples with her thumbs, then examined the undersides carefully. After closing herself into this safe and private place, she had wept .
After a moment, Susan dropped her eyes. ”Roland, who had never felt anything so sane in his life—even the deep ache in his groin felt sane and right—said nothing. A burning wooden wheel spun across the sky like a plate and came back down trailing sparks and burning splinters. In the dark, their faces were little more than dim blurs.
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