Shakily, she rose with the sword and drove it through Rhea’s heart. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. I go back about once a year. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. Mrs. Wild is a friend of yours, I'm sorry for what I said.
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