E. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. I meant to give him a drubbing. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. His last actions were futile.
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