“This ain’t no place for you. I'll send for Wu Fang. “I am lonely. I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying.
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