Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. ’ ‘There is no need for this,’ he ventured mildly, and lifted his finger to show his own pistol was not cocked. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. She looked at him gravely and squinted. The freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of warmth as her limbs froze. She hated living like that. Wood, furiously.
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