" The Wastrel advanced. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. ” He sat like a man turned to stone. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can.
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