‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. I didn’t know that you had it that bad,” said John. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay. She did this to please him. She was wan and white. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. It throbs cruelly. Her disapproval was obvious enough.
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