She crept out of the shadows. She said as much to him. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. " There was another pause. .
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