. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. The chair was torture. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. His condition is not unfavourable, but there may be a relapse at any moment. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. Why? Because he knew that when these two young people left, the island would become intolerable.
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