She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. Marines. ‘What started you off, you madman,’ Roding told him frankly, as he set about tying his handkerchief around the wound, ‘was being born at all. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages.
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