“Oh. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. The feeling of last days grew stronger with her as their number diminished. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. And the change, the change of attitude! The way all the old clingingness has been thrown aside is amazing. In Hamilton Place that is, like I told you before, miss. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape.
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