It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. " "Mr. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. He lowered her neck before her, and she noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind like an itch. They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. After I took the bills it was too late to turn back. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure.
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