“I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object.
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