She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. “Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. The Widow and her Child.
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