“We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. ” He said cruelly as she gazed at him in fear. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. D'ye hear. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner.
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