The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. . If only for the sake of her argument with her home, she wanted success. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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