Night and day have been alike to me. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut.
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