“Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. CHAPTER XXX. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. "Perhaps he means well. She was so interested, and this was such a relief from the trudging anxiety of her search for work, that she went on for a whole week as if she was still living at home. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. But threats and entreaties—even promises were ineffectual; and the unlucky captive, after exhausting his powers of persuasion, was compelled to give up the point. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. I—well, I lost my temper. Sheppard, distractedly.
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