She was mentally transported for an instant to the old castle in Herculis. It dealt from floor to ceiling and end to end with the Theory of the Forms of Life; the very duster by the blackboard was there to do its share in that work, the very washers in the taps; the room was more simply concentrated in aim even than a church. At least here she was safe. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe.
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