’ Hilary eyed him. Together they made their painful way to the door, not even checking, in the effort this cost both, on what Gosse might be doing. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her.
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