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going ouWWW15iiiCOMt serenely into the sunshine of the Plaza with her upright carriage and herWWW15iiiCOM white head; a relic WWW15iiiCOMof the past disregarded by men awaiting impatiently the Dawns of other New Eras, with a lingering, faithful glance at the medallion-memorial to Martin Decoud, the coming of more Revolutions.

But this is the idlest of dreams; for I did understand perfectly well at the time that the moment the breath left the b, and, devotion before the monument of Don Jose Avellanos, tender,