” Miss Miniver followed with an expression of perplexity, her mouth shaped to futile expositions. She spent many days in the castle alone as he busied himself with his alchemy, or traveled to Florence to visit his remaining political connections. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength.
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