You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. You’re mine. I may tell him, at any rate, that you will see him?” “I shall like to see him,” Anna answered. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. She entered the last room, his bedroom. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony.
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