’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine. 47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that.
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