Clippy?

I often wonder how many dead people might still be alive if they just had a computer, ...and some depressants.
 
....Concepta's gaze was fixed steadfastly on the tray she was carrying and she glanced nether to right nor left,neither at the drooping plants, dusty and gone to seed on the low parapet, nor at the stained hammock, nor the bad melodrama of the broken chair, nor the disembowelled daybed, nor the uncomfortable stuffed Quixotes tilting their straw mounts on the house wall, shuffling slowly nearer them through the dust and dead leaves she hadn't yet swept from the ruddy tiled floor.
 
... and the sinister-looking bottle also half full, containing a dull red concoction like bad claret, or perhaps cough mixture.
 
My version of the book has an inscription, "Don't blame me, Dmitri." which is pretty fucking awesome, and not for resale now.
 
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