" And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. The streets were full of colour. ‘I do not know the word in English. . Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. “What is an Oracle, Sebastian?” “I’ve told you a dozen times. .
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