She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Shari smiled and Mike whispered to her. "Your sympathy is being wasted. "He must have gone this way," muttered Blueskin. It’s an instinct. "I'm an ungrateful dog!" "You will be if you don't instantly kiss me the way you used to. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you.
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