He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us. Everything in this world changed—except human folly. Gerald shook his head. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. Dollis Hill revisited. He dropped the key on the counterpane. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers.
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