” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. But it was very hard to follow. “My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me.
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