It was one of those moments when a single strand of time looped off from the rest, carrying me on it, and everything else seemed to freeze. I sat there, thinking back across that long hard winter to the awful day I’d left the company. To walking with Lockwood through the park as he tried to talk me out of it; to our final dreadful conversation in a café while three successive cups of tea grew cold; to how – growing angry with me at the last – he’d left me there. I recalled my last night in the house, with everyone so distant and polite; and my departure when all the others were asleep in the
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