A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. There was a little pain, but it wasn’t anything. ” She paused again. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. They were just nice. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor.
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