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. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium.
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