She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. " "Mr. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words.
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