Another picture slid across her vision. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. Beautiful sculptures of sugar and almond paste decorated the long tables, delicate replicas of flowers and miniature animals, even a small Palazzo sculpted from cakes graced the table. ” He was strangely silent. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. She shuddered, adding confidentially, ‘You wouldn’t get me in there now, mind. “It was very tiring.
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