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‘What a fate he finds for me. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy. He had. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. Not us. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. From this night I shall pursue a different course; from this night his ruin may be dated. They don’t know who did it, actually.
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