” “How absurd!” Annabel declared. “But you must forgive me, John. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip.
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