She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death.
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