Darrell attempted to reply. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. . The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. And then her pace slackened. S. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. She was wan and white.
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