“But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp.
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