Then his beard was of a reddish hue, and his complexion warm and sanguine. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. She was too late. It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up. ‘Jacques, you have been very much my friend.
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