He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. She crept out of the shadows. His safety must be looked to. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. She pitted aspirants against each other in any way imaginable, with tests of science, math, and sometimes will alone. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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