When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. “It’s the spring,” he said. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. “We have scarcely mentioned your name. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff.
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