"Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. He advanced a step towards her. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. ‘And I do not know why you are so polite, when you have been bad to me last night, and have taken my dagger. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. She was always so fertile that she could even impregnate herself using the semen from a corpse, which she did, as you found out.
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