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. "Miss Enschede was born on an island in the South Seas. “Thank God,” he exclaimed. It was explosive and gratifying. ’ The lady frowned suspiciously. " "You are mocking me, Rowland. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered.
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