He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. No one will ever love you as I love you now. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir. I freely forgive you. ’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners.
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