Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. ‘So that’s true, is it?’ ‘Certainly it is true,’ Melusine said, opening her eyes wide. 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. We are alone and we can say and do what we please.
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