The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. ‘I do not believe you. My father died a year ago, by the way. “Why?” he asked, suavely. ‘Jacques? Oh, that is news of the very finest. “It is Michelle, John.
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