Katy had sneered at her for a moment, their eyes locking. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. You have taken even my knife. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever. “I am sorry,” he said slowly.
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