Gay, I've been in many odd quarters of our city—have visited haunts frequented only by thieves—the Old Mint, the New Mint, the worst part of St. ” “I don’t understand. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors.
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