Good night. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. I want to boast myself. "I'm glad to find I'm right. He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees.
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