‘But this Englishwoman,’ asked the man Valade, his puzzlement plain to see, ‘who was she?’ The question irritated Charvill. I am five-and-thirty, and I have knocked about in the world and tasted the quality of life. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. “You left the TV on when you fell asleep in the living room, so I turned it off.
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