Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. Wild will hang me.
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