“It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ‘I live in Kent. I have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. He jumped out of his own side once again and ran around the car to open hers in another theatrical display of chivalry. It wasn’t.
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