” She said. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. 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. True, on board the ships she had watched young men from afar, but only with that normal curiosity which is aroused in the presence of any new species. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. It was obvious that he had waited for her.
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