I had no right to marry you. That was odd: when young people were joyous, they had to express it physically. She quickly strangled him with the piano wire as he looked at her, his lips open as if to scream, but his larynx had been intentionally sliced. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me.
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