His inclinations prompted him most decidedly to take the vacant chair. When she awoke, she felt sick, her mouth still salty with blood. "Sir Cecil is no more. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. ‘Is it such a terrible prospect? I will take care of you—as long as you obey me. I need a white man, if only to talk to; and it will be a god send to talk to someone of your intelligence. "That is easily explained.
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