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How I Fell in with the Curate

           Isatup,andattherustleofmymotionhelookedatmequickly. 

           "Haveyouanywater?"Iaskedabruptly. 

           Heshookhishead. 

           "Youhavebeenaskingforwaterforthelasthour,"hesaid. 

           Foramomentweweresilent,takingstockofeachother. Idaresayhefoundmeastrangeenoughfigure,naked,saveformywater-soakedtrousersandsocks,scalded,andmyfaceandshouldersblackenedbythesmoke. Hisfacewasafairweakness,hischinretreated,andhishairlayincrisp,almostflaxencurlsonhislowforehead;hiseyeswereratherlarge,paleblue,andblanklystaring. Hespokeabruptly,lookingvacantlyawayfromme. 

           "Whatdoesitmean?"hesaid."Whatdothesethingsmean?" 

           Istaredathimandmadenoanswer. 

           Heextendedathinwhitehandandspokeinalmostacomplainingtone. 

           "Whyarethesethingspermitted?Whatsinshavewedone? Themorningservicewasover,Iwaswalkingthroughtheroadstoclearmybrainfortheafternoon,andthenfire,earthquake,death! AsifitwereSodomandGomorrah!Allourworkundone,alltheworkWhataretheseMartians?" 

           "Whatarewe?"Ianswered,clearingmythroat. 

           Hegrippedhiskneesandturnedtolookatmeagain. Forhalfaminute,perhaps,hestaredsilently. 

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Roboto Lora
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