She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. "Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock.
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