. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. ‘Think it’s worth getting some sort of light and following her down there?’ asked Roding. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone.
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