Introduction
Summary of the Book The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. Before moving forward, let’s take a quick look at the book. This story unfolds within the elegantly shadowed rooms of a great English manor and across the silent miles of its surrounding countryside. Our guide is Stevens, a loyal butler whose devotion to duty and reserve once seemed unshakeable. Yet as we follow him on a quiet road trip through rolling fields and tranquil villages, we witness the delicate unraveling of his long-held beliefs. Beneath starched linen and polished silver, unspoken dreams once flickered, now revealed in letters from a former housekeeper and encounters with distant memories. Against the backdrop of changing times and shifting loyalties, Stevens confronts missed chances, moral dilemmas, and unexpressed tenderness. Step by step, he learns that dignity may soften into empathy, and regret may pave the way for understanding. The remains of the day hold surprising possibilities waiting to be discovered.
Chapter 1: A Subtle Awakening into the Quiet Corridors of an English Stately Home, Where a Dedicated Butler Begins to Question His World.
Inside the grand yet gently fading Darlington Hall, a reserved English butler named Stevens stands atop a small ladder, carefully dusting a long-neglected portrait. It is the 1950s, and while the world outside buzzes with change and new ideas, within these high-ceilinged rooms, time appears frozen. Yet for Stevens, who has dedicated decades of his life to perfecting the art of service, subtle shifts are now stirring in his mind. He feels them in the silence of the corridors and in the faint echo of footsteps long since departed. Employed by Mr. Faraday, a spirited American who recently purchased the estate, Stevens notices subtle cultural clashes. He muses that Faraday’s casual suggestions – like borrowing the car and taking a holiday – conflict with Stevens’ deeply ingrained notions of decorum. Stevens wonders if the old codes he once lived by still matter.
As Stevens meticulously polishes an antique vase, he reflects on how Darlington Hall was once a bustling household brimming with servants who knew their place and carried out their tasks with loyal precision. Now, the staff is reduced to a mere handful, forcing Stevens to stretch himself thin and perform a range of duties beyond his usual scope. He sees dust collecting in corners that were once spotless, and notices how even the grand banisters lack their former gleam. All of this troubles him, making him question whether true service can be maintained when the old standards are slipping away. Perhaps, he thinks, this is why Mr. Faraday’s words about taking a short holiday cling to his mind. It is a strange invitation, one that suggests stepping away from the hall’s familiar walls.
Before Mr. Faraday departs to the United States for several weeks, he encourages Stevens to use his time to explore the countryside. At first, Stevens balks at the notion of leaving his post, as if his world would crumble without his constant attention. But then a letter arrives from Miss Kenton, the former housekeeper who once worked with him at Darlington Hall. She now resides in a distant coastal town. Her letter hints at changes in her own life and stirs in Stevens a quiet curiosity. He wonders if meeting her could restore a sense of purpose or rekindle something he cannot quite name. The letter’s tone seems welcoming enough, and it offers him a reason to make a modest journey in Mr. Faraday’s automobile – a trip that is both exciting and unsettling.
Stevens stands in the library, maps spread across a desk, as he plots a careful route through the green patchwork of England’s southern counties. He remembers how, in the years before the Second World War, Darlington Hall’s name carried weight in grand circles. Now, that era seems far away, but the countryside beyond these walls might still hold quiet dignity. Perhaps, as he drives along winding lanes, he will encounter rolling hills and subtle landscapes that mirror his deepest feelings – a sense of restrained longing and unspoken pride. If he follows the roads far enough, he may reach Weymouth, where Miss Kenton, now Mrs. Benn, resides. With a last, hesitant glance at the hall’s venerable silence, he closes the atlas. Soon, he will step out of the only world he has truly known.
Chapter 2: An Unsettling Departure from Steadfast Service and the Rising Echoes of Memories Long Kept at Bay.
As Stevens sets off in Mr. Faraday’s sleek car, he feels a small flutter of anxiety. The journey seems an odd indulgence, bordering on improper. Yet the sunlit roads and gentle curves of the English countryside gradually soothe his unease. Beneath scattered clouds, tidy farms and well-tended hedgerows stretch out, quietly proclaiming England’s understated splendor. Stevens has always believed that a great butler’s composure reflects the refined grace of this land. Despite his nerves, as he glides onward, he imagines that the landscape and his profession share a kinship. Just as the fields and lanes maintain their quiet dignity, he strives to uphold the highest standards of service and gentility. The countryside’s calm reassures him; it suggests that even as times shift, some essential English quality remains in the roots of the soil.
Reaching Salisbury, Stevens decides to spend the night, giving himself a chance to absorb the unfamiliar experience of leaving Darlington Hall behind. Alone in a small, comfortable guesthouse, he reopens Miss Kenton’s letter and carefully rereads her words. She is now Mrs. Benn, married and settled into a different life. Yet he stubbornly continues to think of her as Miss Kenton, as though the past cannot be altered by titles or time. Her letter mentions small changes in her household and hints at an undercurrent of dissatisfaction, a subtle longing to reconnect. Stevens wonders if her invitation is merely social courtesy or if there lies beneath it a deeper sentiment. The questions he cannot ask aloud swirl silently in his mind, fueling both curiosity and a faint, unspoken sorrow.
His thoughts wander back to the old days when Miss Kenton first arrived at Darlington Hall. She had brought a warmth and liveliness to a world that prided itself on restraint and impeccable formality. Stevens remembers how she once brought flowers into his private study, attempting to soften its starkness. At the time, he perceived this as a breach of decorum, a moment too personal, almost intrusive. He also recalls her gentle attempts to point out his aging father’s struggles with heavy tasks, how she believed a bit of kindness and relief would serve everyone better. Stevens resented her implications, defending his father’s capabilities even when evidence proved otherwise. Now, looking back, he wonders if he misjudged her intentions. Perhaps her compassion was never an attack on dignity, but an offering of grace.
Stevens’ recollections take him deeper into the past, back to a significant event in 1923. That year, Darlington Hall had hosted a critical conference where influential guests discussed the aftermath of the First World War and the Treaty of Versailles. Lord Darlington, the original owner, believed the treaty’s terms too harsh toward Germany. He invited statesmen, noblemen, and thinkers to debate revisions, hoping to shape a more equitable Europe. At the time, Stevens observed these gatherings quietly from the edges of the room, never betraying an opinion. He was the perfect servant: discreet, invisible except when needed, always dependable. But now, reviewing those days from a distance, he cannot ignore the weight of what transpired. A certain tension creeps into his memories: the uneasy feeling that these political games carried moral implications beyond his old understanding.
Chapter 3: Shadows of Influence and the Quiet Tension Between Moral Duty and Rigid Professional Pride.
Continuing his journey, Stevens drives toward Taunton. The towns and villages slip by, and with each passing mile, layers of old memories resurface. He recalls how, during that pivotal conference at Darlington Hall, he would hurry through dim hallways delivering refreshments or stand discreetly near the door, eavesdropping unintentionally on weighty conversations. Men of great influence, some aligned with unsettling political factions, discussed Europe’s destiny as though shaping clay in their hands. Stevens never questioned whether he should be there or whether he should care about the moral implications. His duty was to serve. To him, wearing a perfectly fitted tailcoat and ensuring a tray of spotless silverware mattered more than airing opinions. Maintaining discretion meant success. Yet in retrospect, he wonders if he should have opened his eyes wider.
It was during this period that Stevens’ father, an old-fashioned English butler of immaculate pedigree, fell gravely ill. As the men downstairs debated the world’s future, his father’s breathing grew labored. Miss Kenton encouraged Stevens to break away from his duties to tend to his father’s bedside. But Stevens clung stubbornly to the belief that dignity required unwavering dedication to the task at hand. He waited until he was officially relieved from duty to climb the stairs and visit his ailing parent. By the time he stood in the doorway, the old man had passed away. Stevens, though quietly shaken, offered no visible sign of his grief. He convinced himself that his father would have wanted such professional composure, never daring to imagine how different a final farewell might have been.
In Taunton, Stevens settles into another modest inn and thinks about Miss Kenton’s contrasting attitude. During that long-ago tragedy, she showed him compassion and understanding. She gently urged him to acknowledge his father’s declining health. She voiced concerns openly, brought to him the truth in the form of dust on ornaments or tarnished forks—subtle proof that his father’s steady hands were faltering. Miss Kenton’s approach revealed a warmth that Stevens found disconcerting, even threatening. Yet now, decades later, he sees her empathy as a gift he failed to accept. Her presence at Darlington Hall challenged his code of absolute professionalism, making him face emotional truths he was determined to hide. Perhaps, had he listened more closely, he might have understood that dignity can coexist with kindness and personal truth.
As Stevens drifts into uneasy sleep, he ponders how Miss Kenton had also stood firm against questionable decisions made under Lord Darlington’s roof. There was a time when the nobleman’s judgment faltered due to misguided influences. As fascist sympathizers visited Darlington Hall, Miss Kenton recognized darkness lurking behind polite smiles. Stevens, on the other hand, remained dutiful and silent. He believed that personal opinions had no place in a butler’s world. Now, all these years later, the voices of those guests echo in his mind. He recalls half-understood conversations hinting at strange alliances. Within his heart, a restless tension grows. This tension has always been there, buried under layers of carefully maintained composure. Yet only now, traveling these roads, does he allow himself to glimpse what he might have lost by staying silent.
Chapter 4: Embers of Regret Sparked by Misjudged Decisions Within the Grand Halls of Influence.
On the next morning of his travels, as sunlight filters through soft curtains, Stevens revisits a memory that still unsettles him. It concerns a decision Lord Darlington made during the height of Europe’s interwar uncertainty. Influenced by advisors, including fervent fascist sympathizers, Lord Darlington ordered the dismissal of two young housemaids solely because they were Jewish. Stevens had served these young women with the same quiet efficiency he offered everyone. He recognized their competence, their politeness, their hardworking nature. Yet, when Lord Darlington demanded their removal for reasons rooted in prejudice, Stevens complied without protest. He told himself it was not his place to judge his employer. Miss Kenton, however, responded with anger and disbelief. She threatened to leave, outraged by the sheer injustice of removing good staff without cause.
During his evening meeting with Miss Kenton, Stevens informed her of the girls’ dismissal as if it were a mundane household change. Miss Kenton confronted him, demanding to know how he could stand by silently while such a cruel decision took place. Yet Stevens clung to his code, insisting that a butler’s duty lay in unquestioned obedience. For Miss Kenton, this moment revealed a rift between them: where she felt compelled to speak from conscience, Stevens retreated into formality. She did not quit, in the end. Fear of unemployment and uncertainty about her future kept her tethered to Darlington Hall. Though she stayed, something within their relationship shifted. The tenderness that might have grown between them weakened beneath the weight of Stevens’ refusal to step beyond the role he believed defined him.
Later, when Lord Darlington regretted his cruel action and asked Stevens to find the dismissed maids to offer them their positions back, Stevens spoke to Miss Kenton again. He confessed, in his own guarded manner, that he too had been troubled by their dismissal. But this came too late. Miss Kenton, hurt by Stevens’ earlier detachment, was not consoled by his belated honesty. She felt he had concealed his true feelings when she needed reassurance and decency most. This missed opportunity for understanding planted a seed of regret that would root itself deep inside Stevens. By refusing to acknowledge his quiet moral misgivings at the crucial moment, he lost a chance to strengthen the bond with Miss Kenton. Had he been braver then, might their connection have evolved into something more profound?
In reflecting on these events, Stevens admits to himself that his outward neutrality came at a price. Though he never dared articulate such sentiments openly, he knows that the gap between him and Miss Kenton widened because of his unwillingness to share his deeper thoughts. Instead, he had clung to a stony composure, as if emotion were a crack in the fine porcelain of his professional façade. Miss Kenton teased him once, catching him reading a sentimental romance novel, showing that she understood his hidden depths. Yet he pushed her away with formality. In doing so, Stevens abandoned the possibility of genuine human connection. These lingering regrets follow him now, as he moves toward Cornwall, wondering what he might find at the journey’s end. He hopes it is not too late to face these truths.
Chapter 5: Threads of History Entwined in Hushed Parlors, Where Private Duties Meet Political Machinations.
Driving further south, Stevens contemplates how Darlington Hall once echoed with the footsteps of powerful men who sought to mold Europe’s destiny. They had sipped their tea from silver spoons and considered treaties as if they were slight adjustments to a grand tapestry. He recalls the presence of Oswald Mosley, an early admirer of Mussolini and Hitler, who once strolled through the hall’s corridors. Back then, Lord Darlington was unwittingly aiding the ambitions of questionable alliances. Stevens did not think it was his place to ask questions. Yet now, he wonders if silence itself can become a kind of complicity. Had he known then what he knows now – that Ribbentrop, a frequent guest, was not just a simple diplomat but a cunning emissary of Nazi Germany – would he have spoken up?
Stevens recalls how the silverware gleamed under candlelight, and how visitors commented on the exceptional polishing standards maintained at Darlington Hall. He remembers overhearing Lord Halifax praising the hall’s elegance and Herr Ribbentrop’s gracious manner. At that time, Ribbentrop was considered respectable company in certain circles, and Lord Darlington’s hospitality seemed nothing extraordinary. Yet the memory of Ribbentrop’s presence now weighs heavily. History has since revealed Ribbentrop as a manipulator who fed England false reassurances while his government prepared for war and atrocities. Stevens ponders how easy it is to misread the times when one’s vision is narrowed by duty. He placed so much trust in Lord Darlington’s benevolence and intelligence that he never considered the moral cost of welcoming men who would later bring terror to the world.
At the time, England’s upper classes struggled to comprehend the full extent of what lay ahead. Many believed in maintaining old codes of honor and protocol, even as the ground shifted beneath their feet. Stevens, as an observer tethered to tradition, found himself too engrossed in tasks like arranging the perfect dinner setting or ensuring that the library was dusted just so. He never demanded answers from Lord Darlington. He never ventured to ask why certain guests seemed strangely intense or why Lord Darlington’s sympathies leaned toward softening harsh penalties on Germany. Stevens now recognizes that his devotion to propriety shielded him from confronting uncomfortable truths. Had he confronted them, what difference would it have made? Perhaps none—but the question scratches at his conscience as he nears the final stretches of his journey.
With each passing mile, Stevens acknowledges that he has always favored the comforts of clearly defined roles over the uncertain territory of moral judgment. He preferred polishing silver to tarnished truths and smoothing tablecloths to wrinkled ethics. In hindsight, this approach separated him from Miss Kenton, who allowed empathy to guide her actions. If Miss Kenton represented a voice gently urging him to recognize his inner conscience, Stevens chose instead to retreat into silence. He cannot rewrite the past, but he can face it now. Soon, he will meet Miss Kenton again, no longer shielded by the formal events and grand parties of yesteryear. He wonders if the quiet honesty of the English coastline, the steady cry of gulls, or the calm lap of waves might inspire him to voice long-buried truths.
Chapter 6: The Weight of Unspoken Feelings and Tender Bonds Left Adrift in the Tide of Duty.
Stevens finally arrives in Cornwall, his heart quietly beating faster. The coastal breeze carries a different scent, and the horizon stretches out to meet an endless blue sky. Forty minutes ahead of schedule, he settles himself at a small dining establishment called the Rose Garden, a place that feels intimate and welcoming. Here, amid the clinking of teacups and soft murmurs of conversation, he prepares for the meeting he has both anticipated and feared. He remembers the night Miss Kenton told him of her decision to accept a marriage proposal. He had responded with calm congratulations, then withdrew to continue his work, never daring to reveal how her departure shattered a secret hope inside him. That memory aches now, and he wonders if Miss Kenton also carries unspoken regrets.
In that distant moment, after Miss Kenton’s announcement, Stevens had found himself confronted by Reginald Cardinal, Lord Darlington’s godson. Cardinal, young and perceptive, had voiced suspicions that Lord Darlington’s political dealings were not merely naïve but dangerously manipulated by German interests. Stevens had refilled Cardinal’s brandy glass, determined to maintain his neutral stance. Yet Cardinal’s words lingered, questioning Lord Darlington’s actions and hinting at moral traps hidden beneath respectable veneers. Outside Miss Kenton’s room that night, Stevens heard muffled sobs. He hovered, unsure whether to knock, unable to cross the boundary from faithful butler to compassionate friend. He chose inaction. At that crucial juncture, he preserved outward propriety but lost a chance to comfort someone dear. Now, decades later, the quiet laments of that evening still hum in his mind.
As he waits at the Rose Garden, Stevens reflects on how he once imagined himself contributing to a grand historical moment. Standing outside a drawing room door, he believed he was serving men who would guide England wisely through turbulent waters. The pride he felt then now tastes bitter, for with hindsight he sees that some of those men merely played roles in a dangerous charade. He wonders if the energy he invested in polishing silver and perfecting service might have been better spent asking the simplest of questions. Did he truly understand the people he served? Did he truly understand himself? Under the gentle hum of the café’s environment, Stevens must now admit that his silence allowed him to avoid personal risk. But it also prevented him from grasping the fullness of love and understanding.
A faint nervousness trembles through him as he imagines Miss Kenton’s approach. He tries to guess how time has changed her. Will she look older, kinder, more distant? He wonders if her marriage brought her contentment or if her life turned toward some quiet disappointment. She once suggested that he always pretended, never showing his real emotions. That accusation, spoken years ago, haunts him now. He wonders if it is too late to abandon that pretense. Perhaps, with gentle honesty, he can express something true about what they shared, about the unspoken tenderness that once flickered between them like a candle behind a closed door. As he sits at the Rose Garden, cups clinking softly in the background, Stevens steels himself, uncertain yet strangely hopeful that words can still mend old wounds.
Chapter 7: Piercing the Veil of Nostalgia to Discover Lost Paths and Unnamed Longings.
Miss Kenton arrives, and the moment is both ordinary and extraordinary. She is older, of course, her face bearing subtle traces of a life lived beyond the manor’s walls. She has become Mrs. Benn—someone with her own household, her own routines and disappointments. As they converse, they speak first of polite matters: the weather, the journey, and the familiar habits that once defined them. Beneath the surface, though, unvoiced questions shimmer. Miss Kenton confesses that although she is not unhappy in her marriage, she sometimes wonders how her life might have unfolded had different choices been made. She does not say it outright, but the implication is clear: if Stevens had been honest, if he had allowed warmth to shine through that hard shell of professionalism, perhaps her path would have changed.
Hearing this, a quiet ache spreads through Stevens’ heart. He realizes in that instant that the narrative he spent years crafting—one of a dignified butler who placed duty above all—is forever altered. Now he must acknowledge the personal cost of his silence. There were afternoons when he and Miss Kenton lingered over small matters—disagreements about staffing or the proper arrangement of flowers—that concealed much deeper feelings. He recalls her teasing, her intelligent eyes, and the sense that they understood each other in ways words could not always capture. He now sees that beneath those formal exchanges lay a deeper resonance, a subtle promise of companionship and love never properly explored. The realization stings, like a sudden chill in a warm room. Still, Stevens tries to remain composed and considerate.
When their meeting draws to a close, Miss Kenton must return to her life and husband. There is no grand revelation or passionate confession. Instead, there is a soft acknowledgment of what might have been. Stevens, for the first time, allows himself to feel sadness openly, if only for a moment. He thinks back to the English countryside he admired at the start of his journey: quiet, elegant, and reserved. Just as he once believed a true English butler’s dignity mirrored that restrained landscape, he now suspects that true dignity might also admit regret. He understands that while he cannot alter the past, he can recognize its lessons. His mind lingers over Miss Kenton’s words, treasuring her honesty, and hoping that the memory of their conversation can guide him toward a gentler future.
As Miss Kenton departs, Stevens watches her figure recede into the bustle of everyday life—an everyday life he never allowed himself to have. A tide of regret washes over him, mingled with a quiet relief that at least he now knows the truth of his own heart. No longer can he hide behind the polished gleam of silver trays or the crisp perfection of neatly folded linens. The journey to Cornwall has not restored the past, but it has shed light on his blind spots. He stands, lifts his hat, and steps outside into the coastal air. The seagulls cry overhead, and the horizon stretches wide. He knows that he cannot recapture lost opportunities, but perhaps he can do better with the time that remains. The day is not over yet.
Chapter 8: Embracing the Twilight Hours to Reclaim Honor, Humanity, and the Remains of One’s Own Day.
Leaving the Rose Garden, Stevens wanders toward a nearby pier. There, beneath a gently dimming sky, he sits on a bench and contemplates the long arc of his life. A stranger appears, a friendly Englishman who once served as a butler at a modest home. They strike up a casual conversation, one in which Stevens reveals his position as head butler at Darlington Hall. The stranger senses a weight behind Stevens’ words and offers quiet understanding. In a moment uncharacteristic of his strict composure, Stevens accepts a handkerchief from this kind stranger. He realizes that he is quietly weeping—mourning the opportunities missed and the illusions upheld. The stranger encourages him to cheer up, reminding him that the best moments can still come later in the day, much like the gentle glow after sunset.
Stevens, who once revered unflappable dignity above all else, now understands that strength does not preclude honest emotion. Facing the truth of his past is painful, but not without its own dignity. He recalls how he once believed true greatness was found in serving unquestioningly. Now he suspects that true greatness might involve acknowledging our human frailties. He cannot turn back time and rewrite Lord Darlington’s choices, nor can he reclaim the unspoken tenderness he shared with Miss Kenton. But he can move forward. He can strive to serve Mr. Faraday better, not merely as a mechanical automaton, but as a human being who understands that grace and kindness enhance professional excellence. The stranger’s kind words remind Stevens that while day’s light wanes, it can still be gentle and meaningful.
As dusk settles, Stevens stands and contemplates his return to Darlington Hall. He knows that the estate he left behind is no longer as grand or influential as it once was. Its halls may be quieter and its staff fewer, but there remains an essence worth preserving. Perhaps he can dedicate himself anew to serving in a manner that respects both the old traditions and the need for understanding. He envisions greeting Mr. Faraday with genuine warmth, striving to perfect not just the physical appearance of the house, but the human atmosphere within it. Stevens senses a quiet resolve forming, a decision to be more present, more honest, and more open to the subtleties of life’s changes. He will not abandon the concept of dignity; he will simply expand it.
Walking away from the pier, Stevens embraces the notion that life’s final hours, much like the day’s closing light, can contain their own gentle beauty. He recognizes that the past, with its missed chances and flawed allegiances, is beyond repair. Yet the future, however limited in scope, still offers him a canvas. On that canvas, he can paint a portrait of service marked by empathy and respect. He can recall Miss Kenton’s voice and use that memory to inform his actions. He can remember the stranger’s kindness and approach others with similar generosity. As he sets his path back to Darlington Hall, the English countryside darkens into a peaceful twilight. In the quiet hush of coming evening, Stevens carries forward a subtle, hard-won understanding: even in life’s remainder, something meaningful can yet be made.
All about the Book
Explore the poignant narrative of Stevens, an English butler reflecting on duty, regret, and lost opportunities in Kazuo Ishiguro’s award-winning masterpiece, ‘The Remains of the Day.’ A profound examination of life and memory awaits.
Kazuo Ishiguro, a Nobel Prize-winning author, masterfully crafts stories that delve into memory, loss, and the complexities of human emotion, leaving a lasting impact on readers worldwide.
Literature Professors, Psychologists, Cultural Historians, Philosophers, Librarians
Reading literary fiction, Writing and journaling, Exploring historical narratives, Engaging in philosophical discussions, Attending book clubs
The nature of personal duty, Regret and missed opportunities, Class and social structure, The impact of memory on identity
The man who has no imagination has no wings.
Barack Obama, Emma Thompson, Kazuo Ishiguro (self-recommended as an author)
Booker Prize, Whitbread Book Awards, Golden Booker Prize (shortlisted)
1. How does duty shape Stevens’ identity throughout life? #2. What impact does regret have on personal relationships? #3. Can we truly understand the past we’ve lived? #4. How do memories influence our current decisions today? #5. What does it mean to value emotional connections? #6. How does the concept of dignity manifest in service? #7. Why are unspoken feelings significant in relationships? #8. Can we ever reconcile with our past mistakes? #9. How does social class affect personal aspirations and dreams? #10. What role does nostalgia play in our lives? #11. How important is it to confront personal truths? #12. What does loyalty cost individuals in the long term? #13. How does the passage of time reshape perspectives? #14. What does it mean to live authentically or not? #15. How do cultural expectations influence personal choices? #16. Can one ever achieve true fulfillment in life? #17. How does one redefine success and happiness personally? #18. What does it mean to let go of the past? #19. How do life’s experiences shape our core values? #20. What lessons can be learned from tragic misunderstandings?
The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro, literary fiction, British literature, nobel prize winner, historic novels, memory and regret, post-war Britain, character-driven story, emotional depth, classic novels, unreliable narrator
https://www.amazon.com/Remains-Day-Kazuo-Ishiguro/dp/0679731728
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