Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. Come back—you must come back. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of.
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