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“I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. " "May I trust you?" cried Thames, eagerly. Perhaps I am still mad. ” He adjusted his glasses on his nose. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. Her pa was only the smithy. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. “That’s a weird name.
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