"sick," said she. "fed well but must go. lead fell from the flakes in the wallpaper paint." she put on her parcel and bagged up her arsenal. "so afraid to be sleeping once charity wakes." slapped a sad face away, hands slid down her leg. "my well-wisher's wishy-washy warbling aside, sick must i am be, red wine plastic pillow fight." and she trod upon a pin and screamed, you'd never heard such a fright.