Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. "And now to dispose of our dead. A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual. I did what I could to comfort her but she died in terrible pain. ’ ‘Ah, non?’ Her voice was neutral. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled.
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