" "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. Michelle’s eyes were red and bloodshot. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages.
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