She struggled not to be afraid. I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. " CHAPTER IX. '—'They can't,' says I. He heard the woman talking again.
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