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He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. “I love you. I saw the blood come as he rolled over. But you want one quality, without which all others are valueless. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. “My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me.
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