"I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly. The great untrodden world was before her still, into which no one can pass alone. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. They fell in a diapason of smashes. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice.
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