You bring me this grandfather, whom you know well I do not in the least wish to see, for I have told you so. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. ‘Bon. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey.
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