“I will not have this slavery,” she said. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. "Well?" he whispered.
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