That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. Eight per cent. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. I found a blue stone on the beach once.
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