His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. "Judging from what you tell me, I've no doubt he's the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance.
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