She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. She quickly strangled him with the piano wire as he looked at her, his lips open as if to scream, but his larynx had been intentionally sliced. But she must not laugh. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world.
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