” She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. "You mean, it doesn't matter?" "Poor Hoddy! When you were ill in Canton, out of your head, you babbled words. Until the age of five she adored him. Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade.
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