The inn was a military haunt. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. It wasn’t pretty. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda.
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