His eyes were so rarely anything but tranquil that the anguish in them cut right through her. She cried, Is this what you want to know? Ilona can only kill by convincing herself that she hates her victims; I can do it quite easily because I confuse it with love. He needed warmth. David, throw me the bayonet! Karl shouted.
what am I doing to her? The tenderness he felt for her was genuine, but it was also self-deceiving. What could be worse? And yet, logically, the tension between her aunt and father was unlikely to have been about Karl. And when they were together, there was only the voluptuous tide of their obsession with each other. He had simply become the centre, a flower to a bee.
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