“We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. .
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