“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Alan. “You’re bleeding – let me get you some bandages.”
He rushed to the back of the store, and came back almost instantly with a handful of gauze, antiseptic ointment, and cotton pads. He rushed past the shocked faces of two store employees, who shot each other knowing glances; this was a drastic change from the normally reserved and solemn Mister Marx. He led her by the hand to some chairs that were abandoned in a corner and as she sat herself in one of them, he propped her injured leg on the other. The woman – as if suddenly just realizing what he intended – held out a hand in protest.
“No, no – you don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can just take these things with...
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