Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. "I say we, because Miss Rachel and I have struck up a match. ’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him again. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. Byby.
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