How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. "I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped.
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