The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. You see, I’m selfish.
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