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Updated: May 6, 2025
The metallic ocean had already caught the deepening glow of life. Where the stream stole swampwards, a mist curled slowly up from the water like beckoning ghosts draped in nebulous rags. Suddenly in the silence Diane fell to trembling. "Philip!" she cried desperately. "Yes?" said Philip gently. "Why are you following me with the music-machine?"
Are you coming along to-night or not?" "No. I've murdered enough wild turkeys now." Sherrill plunged off swampwards with the guides. Left to himself Carl laid aside his flute and sat very quiet, staring at the cloud-haunted moon which hung above the Glades. He had been drinking and gaming heavily for weeks.
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