"You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable. ” “I had some unexpected business,” Courtlaw answered shortly. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. " "Curse on, and welcome," jeered Wild. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day.
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