She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. It was something you were supposed to return, so she raced through all the television shows that she had watched over the years. “A man can manage without hair; A man scores always, everywhere. But it don't much matter—though he's a devilish shrewd fellow, and might have helped me out of a difficulty, had any occurred. Neither you nor your mother shall escape me.
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