She ducked behind a pile of unused drywall. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. "If I thought he lived——" observed Wood. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish.
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