Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. When she arrived at the Palazzo, not a single sentry was aware of her presence. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. “Hi Lucy. " The object of this discussion sat motionless. Stanley.
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