“I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. I am not angry with you, but with this—this—’ ‘Idiot? Imbecile?’ offered Gerald in a helpful tone. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. Instead, her husband was probably wise. A slow anger burned in the man. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. "We won't have any trouble understanding each other; same language. She slipped silently inside the door as he went inside a 12 putrid little bathroom to urinate. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. I’m not ashamed—of the things I’m doing. Wood, sharply. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned.
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