” She saw him there the next week at the same time. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. “Don’t worry, Julian. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. But we must not anticipate the course of events. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit.
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