You have neither reason nor logic. “You are the type that I want to marry someday, you’ve got a beautiful body, such pretty eyes. I want you to be my wife. Womanhood is sacred to me. I MUST. At noon the doctor himself arrived. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. Fate has two methods of procedure—the sudden and the long-drawn-out.
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