I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. “I suppose, Mr. . “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. Salvation. What do you say?” “I agree,” Anna said coldly, “if you will make it three months. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers.
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