And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees.
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