She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. Mr. Because of the Dance. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp.
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