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Chapter 34 No.34

Do not chide me. I cannot write. What do I do? I do not know. I lie

long hours and watch the tiny mites that live within the sun's bright

golden rays, and say, "Why could I not exchange my womanhood,

that hopes and loves and sorrows, for one of those small dancing

spots within the sunbeams? At least they do not feel."

At night sleep

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