" Our parasites"; she remembered how Vronsky had said that.

" Our? Why our? What's so awful is that one can't tear up the past by its roots.

One can't tear it out, but one can hide one's memory of it.

And I'll hide it.

" And then she thought of her past with Alexey Alexandrovitch, of how she had blotted the memory of it out of her life.