” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. But seriously, things are not so bad as you think. .
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