“Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’ve always thought he was an idiot. He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. They walked side by side for a time. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. His head turned sideways towards the noise, his brows scowling. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park.
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