Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. ’ He held out his hand to help the girl descend. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. "Well," she said, as they reached the hotel portal, "what is your advice?" "Would you follow it?" "Probably not.
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