“It’s okay. It'll be your turn to save mine next. “It’s the centre of the intellectuals. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world.
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