“Let’s go. . Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. Even the basest objects sold in the 24 roadside shops were beautiful in some way. Consent to become my wife, and do not compel me to have recourse to violence to effect my purpose, and I will spare your son. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. Let me go, Sir. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. “Don’t come nearer!” she said.
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