"Or trying to be," answered the doctor. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. Do you want to kill us both? Stop the thing. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. You have said a thousand times that there was no shame in you. You are my prisoner, murderer. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated.
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