Surely Collins was an idiot. He kept dreaming of women in a world that knew nothing of love's delight. But where there's life-- _Few writers possess William Campbell Gault's sensitive capacity for balancing delicacy with daring in themes which gracefully skirt the edge of the outrageous, and open up entire new worlds of speculation which future historians will most assuredly encounter in their travels time and time again. Seldom has he written a story more imaginatively audacious than this._…
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