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“Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty. How dreary it all looks. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. For a pity, she has chosen to remain, and it has been her death. “In a sense—yes. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders.
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