Wood fared still worse. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. He lifted her from the floor. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Then she saw the bodies piled in the corner. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. His name was Sebastianus.
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