“It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. She pulled him towards the bed. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis.
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