Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings.
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