The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. . “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. “Very,” and cracked a walnut appreciatively. “No, she just worries that I’ll go Satanic and start chomping the heads off of bats and mice or something.
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