CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. “We should get out of here. There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. He tries hard to conceal it, but he cannot.
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