His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. I should like Mr. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. She appeared to be considering. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent.
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