Perhaps it was loneliness. There were too many kills, too many unsolved files in too many cabinets. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. They have no ideas what to do with us. The general propositions of Socialism, for example, struck her as admirable, but she certainly did not extend her admiration to any of its exponents.
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