“It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. I hope you won’t mind if I say first that I think it does me an extraordinary honor that you should think of any one like myself so highly and seriously, and, secondly, that I wish it had not been written. “I had to. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket.
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