“You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. Shari was snoring, the pill having worked its magic. Easily I could have killed you. When I awoke I followed my instinct to Athena’s temple.
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