I didn't mean it. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. No, not one little bit.
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