“Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. “It isn’t anything to do with our times particularly. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. Always! I don’t believe there is any strong natural affection at all between parents and growing-up children. "I cannot remain here long. .
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