She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. Burn your palette and your easel. "Oh, Rollo, there are so many things I don't know! But you love me, don't you?" Rollo wagged his stump violently and tried to lick her face. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. "Oh!" she gasped.
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