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Leonardo had not taught her to do so. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. I need scarcely ask whether you've executed your appointed task, my dear? You're never behindhand. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin.
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