The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. You are to come home. You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break.
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