He was still thickly clad in jeans. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house. I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. ’ Melusine looked resentfully at the pistol. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. He sucked at her neck, biting her hard, leaving red marks that disappeared as soon as he made them. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome.
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