‘Dear me. "By the way," said the doctor, as he sat down in the dining room of the Victoria and ordered tea, "I've been thinking it over. I shouldn't care to express an opinion. ‘And so?’ she asked. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. John knew better. 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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