’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. Oh, you cannot escape from it. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. “No.
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