A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. This was irregular. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. “Why should one pretend? “Think of all the beauty in the world that is covered up and overlaid. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. C.
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