She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ‘Grace à dieu, he breathes still. “I murder people, John. "I'll tell you why," he said. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. “I wonder would you mind seeing who it is.
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