There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. She flailed against the doctor’s grip but after what seemed an eternity of kicking and flailing, amazingly, he had not seemed weakened in the slightest by her resistance.
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