She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. We were two people with a craving. Lovers' confidences should be respected. A skeleton was propped against the mantelpiece. And you are something of a heroine, too. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne.
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