‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. I sent a message straight. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me.
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