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speculated. "They weren't our things."
His hold slipped again. "I often wonder about life," he said weakly.
He tried again. "One seems to start in life," he said, "expecting
something. And it doesn't happen. And it doesn't matter. One starts
with ideas that things are good and things are bad--and it hasn't much
relation to what is good and what is bad. I've always been the
skeptaceous sort, and it's always seemed rot to me to pretend we know
good from evil. It's just what I've never done. No Adam's apple
stuck in my throat, ma'am. I don't own to it."
He reflected.
"I set fire to a house--once."
The fat woman started.
"I don't feel sorry for it. I don't believe it was a bad thing to
do--any more than burning a toy like I did once when I was a baby. I
nearly killed myself with a razor. Who hasn't?--anyhow gone as far as
thinking of it? Most of my time I've been half dreaming. I married
like a dream almost. I've never really planned my life or set out to
live. I happened; things happened to me. It's so with everyone. Jim
couldn't help himself. I shot at him and tried to kill him. I dropped
the gun and he got it. He very nearly had me. I wasn't a second too
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