But she no longer felt Jacomo’s age, even if she looked it. Dump popped his head into the cage. Disperse in every direction. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street.
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