The Fugitive
img img The Fugitive img Chapter 62 No.62
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Chapter 62 No.62

My heart is a flute he has played on. If ever it fall into other hands let him fling it away.

My lover's flute is dear to him, therefore if to-day alien breath have entered it and sounded strange notes, let him break it to pieces and strew the dust with them.

            
            

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