” She replied gently. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. And there was another matter. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. John knew better. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. Lucy inhaled deeply. "No; I don't think I'd laugh. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. . ‘There is no one who could have told him this.
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