I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. Sheila, a normally sound sleeper, woke one night to find both her husband and her foster daughter had snuck from their beds, and this infuriated her. Makes you real. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. Then, naturally, I went on talking.
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