Sebastian slowed the car after they had traveled seventy miles into the countryside. They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. “Won’t you tell me why you have come to England?” she said. ‘Who has begun this but you?’ Gerald barely heard her. There is no other way. “I don’t know. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. Promise me one thing before I leave you.
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