It’s like this: You want freedom. She colored faintly. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. All at once they came to the top, the faded blue sky overhead, and whichever way he looked, the horizon, the great rocking circle which hemmed them in. I must have this beast brought to London with me, that is seen. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her.
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