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She knows.

Abandoned, deserted, betrayed, cursing and wishing him damned, damned, burning in hell, ladies' man, womanizer, who lied in the crib to his mother!--yet she knows, while she rages, that somewhere at the end of the line of lovers down which he takes his inconstant, destined course as though passed on from one to the other until his mystery is all rubbed away and all he is meets any eye, oh she knows that a woman, a mere woman, like her, will, though numbered a thousand and four, one day touch her fingertips to his lids, will wash and perfume his blank body all over, and dress him, as she might dress her baby, her own dear baby, for his long night on the town.

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Author:Feldman, Irving
Publication:The Nation
Date:Oct 3, 1994
Words:125
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