The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. Killed is too kind a word. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. He kissed her cheek. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry.
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