” “Two words only,” Hill repeated. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her.
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