Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. I was ready to wager that your name would have marched with one of them. ” Her voice trembled with suppressed passion. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. My own impression is that he already knows. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands.
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