She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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