She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. "Enough!" rejoined Wild; "he shall not return. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. They simply understood there was a greater need to get over the past than to talk about it. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed.
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