After all, Hilary must be near returned by now. Lovers' confidences should be respected. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog.
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