Neither you nor your mother shall escape me. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. Wood trembled. "She is. It may be well, therefore, before proceeding farther, to describe it more minutely.
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