As a dog eats grass. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. He may die. You know you don’t mean it. A white man takes his life in his hands. Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ’ Gerald turned and came back to her. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. It’s gone.
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