“I——” The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. "How is the patient?" he asked. 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. And they pay her.
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