The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. “You Mr. "Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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