A fever of shame ran through her being. He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. "What is a family album?" "You poor child, do you mean to tell me you've never seen a family album? Why, it's a book filled with the photographs of your grandmothers and grandfathers, your aunts and uncles and cousins, your mother and father when they were little. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. They will find me dead, yes. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. The man is a stranger to me.
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