It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park.
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