He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. "The devil you have! Then, perhaps, you can tell me when he intends to put his threat into execution?" "What threat?" asked Jackson. He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away.
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