It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive.
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