Quentin collapsed as I discussed occult matters and muttered the name of “Cyrus,” a benevolent physician with a strange resemblance to Jebez Hawkes.  (Finally, a more pleasant twin.)  It is revealing that, when I see a chest seizure, I ponder voodoo rather than a cardiac arrest.  Still, I withheld my opinion.

Alexis, quite upset, insisted on summoning “Maggie Collins” back.  Still an astounding, infuriating, and glorious thought.  This evening, I met her, and she is every bit as lovely as in my universe — and quite fitting as the mistress of Collinwood.  Pitiful that Quentin seems to discount her so.  In fact, he demands that she depart.  How could he?


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