So, adroitly and patiently, he pulled Ruth apart; that is, he plucked forth a little secret here, another there, until he had quite a substantial array. Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. “Indeed!” Anna answered indifferently. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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