E. Here and there, a rectangular patch, darker than the rest, showed that some had been removed. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. ” “Why?” asked Hetty. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously. " "Ruth what?" "Enschede; Ruth Enschede.
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