Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. "I thought you were asleep. Michelle’s eyes widened. "God in Heaven!" he cried, "the floor is covered with blood. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions.
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