“He was no help to the police, just babbled on about how he was going to marry your Mom and how he was in love with her, that they he had lost his true love, Michelle insisted on repeating that to me, ‘He lost his true love. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. ‘Very wise,’ commented Gerald. And here against a wall were the plumtrees.
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