You cannot—shall not retreat. Get on with it, then. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. He seemed to possess infinite reserves of patience when she refused him or purposely tried to bait and anger him, but his patience only made him seem more sinister. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. She will die if she knows I have a gun.
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