‘You imbecile. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames.
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