En tout cas, why had he not returned? She pondered the question as, later, she paced about her favourite retreat. His brain reeled. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. ” There was a moment’s silence. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice.
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