"Why, how the devil did you happen to guess that?" cried the janizary. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press. . She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already.
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