A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. Lucy stared like an automaton at Michelle’s unconscious 262 body, revolted at her own actions to the point of shock. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. ‘I don’t want to hurt you any more.
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