” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. ’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. . Their conversation hung. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his.
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