Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. \"He still likes you, I believe. “Hand me the Jergens lotion, will you? How’d it go with John?” She asked. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. ’ He regarded her thoughtfully.
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