XXIII

      "Hell kiss you."

      He didn't know whether or not to believe his eyes. He was very mad. Not like crazy. But in no time he could merge the two maladies and be crazily mad. He needed to be sure of what he was seeing. But he could not fathom why that could be true. Somethings are simply meant to be illusions. They have no rights to be featured into the rustic reality. He feared to believe his instinct, but there was nothing better to believe in. He didn't know whether or not to cowtow and that was the Genesis of his confusion. He wouldn't be wrapped up by contention, but would let the scene sink.

      What was the crazy Nymph doing there? How did she enter the house? Who invited her? Who did she think she was? What guts had severed her reason that she thought she could mar and make at her choice? It seemed as though he had an answer to the second question. Of cou

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