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Scant ht-lipped with cold fury, she weeping in despair

She sat in the middle of one of the sofas, a pillow she’d fluffed to within an inch of its life not an hour ago clutched to her breasts like a life preserver

Marco was pacing the saht as a nervous suitor but now his footsteps were heavy, his hands were fisted in his trouser pockets, and the look on his face said that nothing in the world would ever be the saain

“I tried to tell you,” she said in a tre voice “I tried and tried but you wouldn’t listen”

“You told !”

“I did I said you had the wrong idea about irl you’d decided I was”

“I decided? I decided nothing except to believe your sad story”

“I didn’t tell you a sad story You’re the one who—”

“Did you tell me you worked as a piano player in a bar?”

“Yes And it was the truth”

“Did you tell me that you lived in that—that abominable slum?”

“I did live there And it wasn’t an abominable sl—”

“Perhaps it was I who I decided your father had spent his life being shuffled from army base to army base”

“You’re distorting everything! I never said—”

“Or perhaps it was my decision to think of your brothers as—asand clocked in to their jobs!”