But in the appendix of the dictionary she had discovered magic names—Hugo, Dumas, Thackeray, Hawthorne, Lytton. The one through which she had come and Gosse had entered behind her. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. God had never answered any of her prayers. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham.
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