“DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. Father-worshipping sons are abnormal— and they’re no good. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. “I will not have this slavery,” she said. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. I must finish it at home. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. Afterward he stole out of the room with the bloodstained sheet to boast her virginity to his brothers and father, which only truly mattered because she was beautiful, her mother had said.
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