She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. I asked him to take me away, and hide me. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up. If only one might open the shutters and let in the light.
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