" "Iss, Massa Austin," replied the black. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether.
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