“It’s his birthday. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. ‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side. All at once they came to the top, the faded blue sky overhead, and whichever way he looked, the horizon, the great rocking circle which hemmed them in. She refused to sleep in the same room with him one night, kicking him in the shins. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in.
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