"The end is the most beautiful in English literature. Everybody talking of you. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. Lucy didn’t seem like a teenage girl at all to Sheila and she knew it. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. " "What a strange history is mine!" said Thames.
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