"Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. Lucy aimed the firearm at Rhea’s chest. . The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air.
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