It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do. Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. “Let me help you,” he begged. Out of all this we have struck a sort of harmony.
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