She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. good at that.
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