She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. By the side of her plate was a small key.
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