Gerald shook his head. There you will be, in an inner temple. Don’t be afraid to go on thinking it. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman. “You are late,” she murmured. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger.
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