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She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. I don’t care. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. He noticed the two chairs close together. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. The monster, Wild, when he visited my dungeon last night, told me, to add to my misery, that she occupied a cell near me. When I'm alone I don't mind.
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