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She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. “I believe,” he said slowly, “that I shall do best to throw myself upon your consideration and tell you the truth. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry. But at the word “home” she turned again. ‘Neither do I,’ he responded, frowning, ‘but for Gerald’s sake, I’ll do anything I can. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade. He told her something about music, the great world outside.
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