She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. ” She smiled at the thought. The theme was a masquerade. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman.
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