She watched as his headlights flooded the driveway and many minutes after his car was gone. She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. Blueskin might have butchered you and your brat before I'd have lifted a finger to prevent him, if it hadn't suited my purposes to do so, and he hadn't incurred my displeasure. She wondered if the second part would overcome his objections? Several times the words had rushed to her tongue, to find her tongue paralysed. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully.
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