Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. The delay was only momentary. ” “Is it necessary to send for the police?” Anna asked.
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