“It’s bound to be all right,” she said. ‘Scream and you are dead,’ he snapped, and released her mouth so that he might open the door. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. Her heels made contact with Rhea’s knees and hobbled her with a crack. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy.
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