“You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. They then clambered over a hedge, and scaling another wall, got into the garden at the back of the house. “Just think about what you are asking, John, please.
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