"Auntie?" he cried. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes.
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