Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. Anna felt that her words had become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which she had intended to impart. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. I don't think he'll come to himself too soon. He sent me flowers.
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