But now I must. A figure moving through the room had woken her. When Karl began to weep he did not have to force the tears; he actually could not stop them. He hugged her, drew back and studied her.
Yes, I like that. And of course he would have been grief-stricken, devastated, all the human things Karl can be—but it would not have been my secret any more. It was a boy of about fifteen; a beggar with huge brown eyes gleaming in a grimy face. Blood seeped down into an oily pool in the bottom of the crater and made a crimson spiral on the surface.
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