He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. "But first let us secure Sheppard. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason.
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