“Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. ’ He slid slowly down and collapsed to the stone floor, fainting dead away. You’re a piss-poor liar, John. The fates are never so kind to me. But she was not sure just how to reach it. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. ’ Releasing her, he turned and walked swiftly towards the door.
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