Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. ” She said as she rested her head against his chest, eyes unfocused on the fading sky. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. Your aunt liked the pheasant. “Dear John,” she whispered. The times were such that, with the opinions he entertained, he could not remain idle. He must have married when he was quite a young man. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting.
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