Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. He drove to his apartment, a second floor studio he 120 was renting above a bakery. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. She trembled; but she did not know why. Niente.
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