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331pleased.But damn it all, he read.OneHe escaped always, Cam thought.She might be blind with rage: (she held herlittle finger tight to recall the agony, the suffocation, of his tyranny:Do this: do that. I won't have this. Obey me instantly: & so on,)& suddenly, it seemed he co just as ones hands closed& then, at the crisis, ready to strike him dead as one was, off heit was impossible.Turning She rememberedonce a his coming into theroomHe stooped, she remembered,hepicked a yellow flower.Andher mother,taking it with an odd little cry stuck it in her dress; instantlyShe had let him go, toothenYet it was the same sort of scene thing precisely:He escaped her: always, even thenIt was the same even then.He had his little perch, out at sea, she thought,smiling, as shedid, son when sometimes, she came close, imagined herself hisvery like her mother: