’ ‘To you,’ she said angrily. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. She saw his eyes glaze over. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. ’ Disappointment flooded her. He called a waiter. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. I'd like to be alone now.
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