" He approached the bed and laid his palm on the patient's forehead, and nodded. Your life is like a funeral March. “I did,” Anna answered. No— no, it must never be. And as for not knowing me, you abominable little liar, you’re perfectly aware that we met at Remenham House. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets.
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