“Oh, damn!” he said. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. “I did everything I could to save your baby, Lucia, I have the medical knowledge to cure almost anything, but the Pestilence struck you too fast. One who—who—tres. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. And yet—I love you.
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