The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. Griffin. “Had the pleasure of dining with you at the ‘Ambassador’s’ one night, before the show, you know—last September I think it was. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue.
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