“I mean to,” she replied. ’ ‘Precisely. “It isn’t quite that we’re toys. And I think I will indeed blow off your imbecile head. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. I have seen many of them. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it.
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