” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. Their flitting hands were always touching. Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse. Old Bedlam. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. ’ ‘Eh? Why did you not say so, man?’ demanded Hilary crossly.
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