There is no further hope. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. "This suspense is worse than torture. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. "It was silly. I almost died from this flu.
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