“I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. Mr. I hate what I am. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. “I can say no more. She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter.
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