Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. . I spent many happy days there. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone. 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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