And Brokaw. He is a bigger brute. It was he who made me let him
take this picture--two years ago. I have been training Tara to kill--to
kill any one that touches me, when I scream."
It was wonderful to watch her eyes darken, to see her pupils grow big
and luminous. She did not look at the picture clutched in her hands, but
straight at him.
"He caught me there, near the creek. He _frightened_ me. He _made_ me
let him take it. He wanted me to take off my...."
A flood of wild blood rushed into her face. In her heart was a fury.
"I wouldn't be afraid now--not of him alone," she cried. "I would
scream--and fight, and Tara would tear him into pieces. Oh, Tara knows
how to do it--_now_! I have trained him."
"He compelled you to let him take the picture," urged David gently. "And
then...."
"I saw one of the pictures afterward. My aunt had it. I wanted to
destroy it, because I hated it, and I hated him. But she said it was
necessary for her to keep it. She was sick then. I loved her. She would
put her arms around me every day. She used to kiss me, nights, when I
went to bed. But we were afraid of Hauck--I don't call him 'uncle.'
_She_ was afraid of him. Once I jumped at him and scratched his face
when he swore at her, and he pulled my hair.
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