It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. “I am going to ask for your forgiveness. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. I heard rumours of it in Paris, and the place since then has been closed. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently.
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