. It was now a quarter past twelve. "I beg pardon," he said. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. “What a little brick!” he murmured. He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. “It’s a matter of feeling with me. Wood. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer.
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