Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. “A man who does not touch his wife, who ignores his wife, what kind of man is he? I am not sick any more. . It can wait a bit longer. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck.
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