" "I see. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. “I was sick of the make-believe. There was something very wrong. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. “As if it could possibly matter what such a person thinks of you. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t. ‘Difficult, I grant you. “I certainly knew him no better than you. He waited.
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