" O'Higgins extracted a cigar from a pocket and inspected it. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. "Evidently he could not destroy these children of his. ” “You did,” Anna exclaimed. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense.
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