“I do not know any one of that name. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. Anna, with her marvellous capacity for enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an hour or so ago at an A. The smell of laundry detergent was noticeable, the bed sheets very tightly stretched across the bed, tucked in on three sides. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered.
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