" Mr. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. My wife—killed me. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. They were only passers-by.
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