Her unnatural calm was giving way. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. “Go from me, husband!” With a flourish he brought her arms behind her and her body was slammed to the floor. ‘That is my mother. “All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better.
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