She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. You know—if you want freedom. Brendon. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. We have seen great and sober-minded men come to this unholy city, and become degenerates.
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