. .was a horror so black it nearly clove her heart
in two. She hunched together, pale and shivering with fright---unable
to act, or even to think.
And yet it was only in that, most desperate of corners, that the true
strength of her spirit revealed itself. Her slow-awakened courage,
pushed to its final need, became galvanized at the last, not a
momentary surge, to be swept away as soon as anger left her, but a
permanent foundation, underlying all. The will to live, and to resist
the evil that would snuff out that life, rose so strong in her that it
was all she could do not to cry out in rage.
Clenching her jaws to keep the lower from trembling, she broke away
from the helpless embrace and began to move across the floor on all
fours, searching for the blade that she had earlier discarded.
With this, Anne Scott too seemed to gather herself, and perceiving her
niece's intention, began to search for the knife as well. All done in
the poor and inconstant light from without, and with the urgency that
only threat of death can bring.
It was no easy task.
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