"It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. It is in the lower cupboard. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. “I don’t believe there is one. V. ‘Precisely. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock.
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