Donna Wilkey

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“Thank you,” said Alistair, standing. “Very good.” Alistair hesitated in the doorway. “There is one thing.” “Yes?” The doctor was fanning the papers on his desk, looking for the next fellow’s. “A few of the chaps I was friendly with . . . well, they didn’t make it back from France. And now . . . well, I do seem to keep myself to myself, rather.” “Quite right,” said the doctor. “Take it steady until you feel brighter.” But Alistair still hesitated, wondering if there was a better way to put it. The men were good at calling the war a bastard and laughing at the mess it made of one’s nerves. But ...more
Donna Wilkey
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