CHAPTER VIII. Everything had stayed the same during the centuries. ‘It is of no use to try to stop me. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. Anticipating this, Wild avoided the shot by suddenly, ducking his head. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet.
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