The Mysterious Case Of Mr. Strangeway (The St. Croix Chronicles) - Plot & Excerpts
Sheer frustration conspired to strip me of my composure, and I sobbed in anger, embarrassment and an increasing amount of pain. I had received my first collecting wound, I had run into the obstinate wall that was Hawke’s cruel indifference, and I had lost my quarry. I was a terrible collector. And this too brought tears to my eyes. Once more, I found myself feeling lonely between the worlds I had been forced into. I had been a thing all my remembered life, bound to a different sort of master than simple servitude. Though the bonds were prettier, it seemed that I would remain in oppression. I was not strong enough to be the collector I had demanded of myself. Gilded cage or otherwise, this new Society life would never fill the hole I felt. A hole that the night’s dosage of pain-relieving opium only diminished. It could not heal the ache I felt. I am not sure how long I sat in the lane the Menagerie’s footmen had deposited me in, mired in shadow and the thick, choking fog, choking under the weight of my aching heart, but I was not approached, and if I was watched, I did not know.
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