“No,” I say, shaking my head emphatically. “I didn’t send you this. I wrote two letters. One for Teddy, to explain why I couldn’t marry him, and one for you. The one I wrote to you was short. Eight words, to be precise. This is Teddy’s letter.” He picks up his drink and lifts it to his lips, then puts it down again without sipping. He’s silent for a time, eyes locked straight ahead as he registers what I’ve just told him.
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