She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her.
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