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He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. “Aren’t we all just odds and ends of humanity —the left-overs, you know. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. She could even think of what had happened. Already she knew that she was overstaying her welcome.
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