Hill was seated. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. . Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. I came to beg you instead to do me the honour of becoming my wife.
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