Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. ” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. She needed to protect the baby. Sanguine they were not. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt.
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