Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. "You mistake,—you are mine. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room. She placed the freezer back on top of Ray Plote's old hiding place, now his permanent resting place. " "Who?" almost screamed Mrs. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt.
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