She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. Rhea laughed and lunged for the broadsword that Sebastian had carelessly left lying on the ground. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. “In self-defence I had to,” she answered. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength.
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