I shall never come back. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. ‘You do not dare look in my clothes. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard.
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