“I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. She kicked both of her legs with the force of a bull, sending a blow into Rhea’s borrowed legs.
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