Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. ” He paced the room for a minute or two restlessly. “Who can tell?” she said. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. She no longer felt sick or dizzy, her muscles returned to a relaxed, supple state. "Well, it's a good story.
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