You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. 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. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. “Let me add too that I am thankful for your decision. They have rescued the child. He gave you a poison.
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