A slow anger burned in the man. Good and Evil. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. There were two. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot.
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