” “I forgive you willingly,” Anna said, bending over him. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. Beware of him, my son! Beware of him! You know not what villany he is capable of. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less.
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