" Actually, I would be very grateful for a chance to clean up.” Mad Rogan touched his forehead. His fingers came away bloody and stained with soot. Suddenly he looked young and disarming, like one of my cousins when they were in trouble. “And a bite of food if you could spare some.” If he laid it on any thicker, he’d be ready to audition for Oliver. My mother couldn’t possibly buy this. "
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