Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror.
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