She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. My servant. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright.
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