" "Give me an acquittance," said Trenchard. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. S. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. But you belong to me—and I want you. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man.
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