That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. That night in Paris I saw on the bills ‘Fatal Motor Accidents. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. She felt like a dried-up old woman. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. Consequences of the Theft. She could not feel her own body.
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