Monroe would lock the whole group of us in the basement, every day. “Dare!” she said. But as Rowland sprang to the helm, and gave the signal for pursuit, a roar like a volley of ordnance was heard aloft, and the wind again burst its bondage. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door.
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