The assemblage which was gathered together was almost countless. Fast. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. Here we go, thought Gerald. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. There were words, then, that ran on indefinitely, with reversals? Here they meant one thing; there, the exact opposite. I will remember them, Sebastian, along with my mother and father, and all the others I came to love and lose. But me, I am going to England.
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