"Your son," answered the boy. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. ‘You imbecile. I beg that you will consider me your friend. . Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her.
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