It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. It wound around a small manufactured lake. Sheppard had been interred. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. “Don’t worry, Julian. “Let us go to that little place at the back of the Palace. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. ’ She shrugged fatalistically.
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