" Jonathan's eyes glistened as he told over the notes. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. Of all the entirely English women I know, you’re the only one with a French accent. And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat.
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