Each time that we meet I try to kill you. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. She obeyed, extending her arm. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals.
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