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The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines. He lifted her from the floor. They seed beyond all reason. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. "Confusion!" ejaculated Jonathan: "can he have escaped? No.
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