The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. “Please don’t be sad. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. ] "So much the better. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. " She had no reason to doubt him. Gerald smiled and crooked his elbow.
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