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Your memory is a monster; you forget—it doesn’t. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with a will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!
She had flirted with him, she had taunted him, she had humiliated him—or she had tried to. What right did she have to be insulted by his rudeness to her, in return?
