He looked at her, hurt. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station. But the big job for you is yet to come. I took him out of the hands of death. That was the only sound he heard. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. And I’d do it again for you if needs be. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. Of course, there'll be a few kinks to straighten out. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand.
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