“You shall go,” he declared. A-L-I-V-A—Aliva—T-R-EN—Trencher that's it. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. Maggot. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish.
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