” He started back as though he had been shot. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. 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. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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