The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. They were going up the slope into Waterloo Station. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. “It is unimportant,” she said. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days.
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