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She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. You must think it over. "I have some difficulty in preventing myself from becoming your executioner. Give me the keys and the light. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. “Nor am I now,” he answered.
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