Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. Oh God! my limbs fail me. Nasty, damp passages. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. Let me run you for six months.
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