Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. “It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine.
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