"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. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. Could she go through with it? She must. Marvel held her handkerchief to her eyes, and appeared in great distress.
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