Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. Then he opened the study door and called “Mollie!” and returned to assume an attitude of authority on the hearthrug, before the blue flames and orange glow of the gas fire. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso.
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