"That's odd. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. His blood would be sweet with it. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. If you love me, do not allude to this subject again. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present. . These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever.
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