“I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. A pig, yes, a little. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality.
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