‘I don’t want a hue and cry after me, I thank you. It ought not to be much. They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on. Jack's heart was too full to allow him to derive any pleasure from this scene; so he strolled on without raising his eyes till he arrived at Kensal Green. That old world that had shoved up that silly old hotel, and all the rest of it. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. She even hit the jackpot in 1952 when she found a photograph in a London issue of Vogue. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven.
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