" "All right. She positioned it over her arm, placing the firing end in Rhea’s mouth. We were two people with a craving. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. “Please call me Carol.
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