At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. ” “I don’t know who you are,” Ennison said quietly, “but you are a thundering liar. They’re just a joyous softening of the outline—more beautiful than perfection. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace.
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