"What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. She was pensive and thoughtful. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. "Dead!" echoed the boy.
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