‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. ” “You have it,” he declared confidently. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. Sheppard made an effort to speak, but her voice was choked by emotion. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park.
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