. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. And in that respect they stir up one another. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. She drew it out with shaking fingers. Kneebone and Winifred. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass.
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