" "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid.
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