“Mayhap folks are right,” he said in a voice almost too low to hear. Yet these also looked dull, and Eddie no longer thought it was just the day’s cloudy light that made them seem so. Mayhap they only need this stuff. Whore’s clothes, she had called them.
Blaine was feeding himself with it, somehow. “The kind of whore you had to pay for in coin, the kind too fine for the trade of simple folk. Two drunks lay with their heads on one of these, snoring and drooling on the green felt, their outstretched hands touching. ” His voice sounded old and rusty to his own ears.
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