Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. They will guess that I am English. Had she said the words aloud? He pulled her close and she nuzzled her head on his chest. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered.
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