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She is my only family. ” He rolled his eyes, trying 190 to conceal pride. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. That might happen on her birthday—in August. ‘I left a message at home that he should do so as soon as he returned from Kent.
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