. . . Shakily, she rose with the sword and drove it through Rhea’s heart. 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. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. “Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. "Well, I'm not far from the mark.
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