‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. “Odd!” she said. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. His age was not far from fifty. But there is need for the proof that I am me, and that is what I look for.
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