She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. ‘But I find you excessively rude, Gérard. '—'What is it, Mint?' asked all three. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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