I do forgive him; but he will never know now. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. She wanted to kiss his feet. She wished to view Sebastian again if only to reaffirm that there was a human being whose appearance remained unaltered by the vagaries of time and memory. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told.
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