" "I see. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. ‘Very well, then. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. We shall never have an heir, you and I! My family is crumbling; all of my brothers are dead. I was afraid of being talked about. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male.
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