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The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. The massive door was unlocked, and they entered the cell. She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed.
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