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"What kind would that be?"

"The truthful kind," she says

"That’s the only kind I want"

"Then by all er in the air beside her--"ask away"

Hesitating for a long, tense moment, I think about my question and what her truthful answer could mean

"Do you think a man like Victor Faust can ever truly be in love?"

Nora is very quiet, as if my question has stripped the sarcasue Then she turns her head to the side again, allowing me to see the outline of her nose and cheek in the moonlit darkness that shrouds her

"That’s a bold question," she says "And one that I think you already know the answer to"

"Maybe so, but I want to know yours"

"You mean," she says as if to correct me, "you want to know the reason behind , but I don’t see it on her face, and I don’t get any spiteful or pleasurable feelings from her--just honesty

She looks back at the wall in front of her again

"Anyone can be in love, Izabel," she says in an even voice, "and I can tell by the look in that man’s eyes that he is in love with you"--(I want to be pleased with that answer, but I’m not because I know that’s not all of it)--"but a oes on, "can’t stay in love forever Like Fredrik’s type can’t live without love, Victor’s type can’t live with it And the ets in the way of his duties, and the more human youpoint"

"What’s that supposed tothat noto put an end to us?"