” Anna measured out the coffee. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. “I had lunch very late to-day, and I did not get home in time for dinner. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it.
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