She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. Her small round breasts were vulnerable under her mostly nonfunctional Kmart bikini bra. I want to leave it for ever.
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