Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. She could even think of what had happened. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. Other girls gathered around like sheep. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute.
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