“Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. . . I don’t want to influence you unduly—But—They’re artistic people, Vee. The girl’s eyes never left his face. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. In these waters the shell has about given out. It was horrible, but she must do it. Not if I read her aright. I will endeavour.
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