’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. She realized that with a pang of disgust and horror. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. So she built a shrine.
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