” Annabel rose to her feet. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. Did he like freaks? She opened her black umbrella, her giant sun deflector. “Yes, I know. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell.
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