She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive. . “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. “How old are you?” “Sixteen. Now you can understand why I have been obliged to——” “Yes, yes, I understand that,” Courtlaw interrupted. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour.
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