It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. “Yes,” she said, very faintly. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night.
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