‘I knew you would be furious. “I made two fruit pies and now I have no one to eat them. Anyway, I only smoke occasionally. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. "The nurses," she answered. It was locked. .
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