She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. "And what do you suppose we mean to do with you, eh?" "You mean to kill me," replied Thames, "by my cruel uncle's command.
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