She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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