“Mr. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. ’ ‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. It is customary even where an agreement is drawn.
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