Diane spoke first. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. You were dying and your baby along with you. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. But Darrell averted his head. He’s dead.
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