Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. ’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. ‘Very inventive. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia.
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