She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. To love in such a way, it is excessively selfish. I was looking for rooms last week. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. "Open the door, I say, or I'll burst it open.
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