‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. I fight. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you.
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