“Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. ” “I don’t know. “Only you are the woman I love, and you are in trouble. The biological laboratory, perpetually viewing life as pairing and breeding and selection, and again pairing and breeding, seemed only a translated generalization of that assertion.
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