Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense.
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