She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. They found out Cris had some sort of criminal past, more child abuse stuff of course. ‘Allow me. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated. She saw his face change, how he regretted.
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