Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. Do not oppose it, and I will serve you. She knew now that he never would.
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