His words cut her heart like a whip. There was no sign of Karl. The ones who torment themselves have often done nothing to deserve it. Fascinating still, but sometimes the laboratory walls seemed confining rather than safe, and nothing was the same.
He may not let me go again, but even if he does, what would be the point? You have your family, your work. But still there was that undercurrent of panic. And then—two burning thrusts of pain. But if her body responded independent of her will—desperation, perhaps, for what she had lost—her passion seemed to alarm him.
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