" The girl's blood ran warmly for a minute. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. To-morrow they will all be contradicted. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. Always! I don’t believe there is any strong natural affection at all between parents and growing-up children. Nothing is settled upon. They were filthy after the burial.
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