But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. “This wonderful affection of yours for my sister, does it date from your first meeting with her in Paris?” He hesitated. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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