Good-bye. Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. “It is true. ” “Would you mind telling me,” Anna asked, “how long I knew you in Paris?” He looked at her sideways. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. Now let us forget it.
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