She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. “You cannot! Oh, you cannot.
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