She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. There is no further hope. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. “Hi Lucy. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy.
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