“What do you need money for, anyway?” asked Ruth. “We live in a tiny village. We buy clothes from the general store, barter turnips for milk, and the booze is free.” “Not free,” said Olivier, pouring her another shot of what looked like scotch but was actually cold tea. There was a suspicion Ruth knew about the substitution but played along. Because, as with so much else in her life, she didn’t really care. As she watched Ruth, Clara remembered that in the past few hours someone had gone onto Twitter and defended her. You ignorant turd. Clara’s works are genius. #MorrowGenius If it wasn’t
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