” “Who says I don’t? Didn’t you used to live in Arkansas?” “Alabama. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. People running, screaming, hiding. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. ‘Oh, peste. But one could not count with any confidence upon Capes. It forbids—all sorts of things.
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