His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door.
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