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The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. A sense of loss was amongst us. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. ’ ‘I am not the imbecile you take me for,’ Gerald said with dangerous calm.
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