‘Very well, arrest me. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. I stole away and walked to the railway station. I don’t care. ‘And nnever would you have f-found it. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. Her father was holding her waist, smiling.
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