" "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. " "There are bad stories, then, just as there are bad people?" "Yes.
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