. ” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. Look at the poor victim at your feet. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. Luck. At least for one moment, it was. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being.
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