” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. ” She took his hand, interrupting him. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air.
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