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datatime: 2022-11-27 00:08:28 Author:BklYeCxt

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

'Is this wise?' he said.

'Now I think I didn't know him at all,' she went on, 'didn't understand him. I think maybe it was another trick. Another part of his magic.'

Valentin had appeared with a glass of milk. He set it down on the table in front of Harry. As he made to leave, she said: 'Valentin. The letter?'

'I read about it. Tragic.'

'So I did,' she said, conceding his point with an apologetic look. 'Forgive me. That was Swann talking. He hated to be called a magician. He said that was a word that had to be kept for miracle-workers.'

'To Hamburg,' she said, 'I don't like this city. It's too hot. And too cruel.'

'Maybe,' she replied, nodding. 'Perhaps what happened to Swann would have happened anyway, wherever we'd been. People keep telling me: it was an accident. That's all. Just an accident.'

Valentin had re-appeared, his lugubrious features rife with suspicion. He carried an envelope, which he clearly had no desire to give up. Dorothea had to cross the carpet and take it from his hands.

'But you don't believe it?'

'Illusionist,' she said.

'We were only over for three months, while his show ran. We were going back in September . . .'

'I read about it. Tragic.'

'Is this wise?' he said.

'He's grief-stricken,' she said. 'Forgive him his behaviour. He was with Swann from the beginning of his career. I think he loved my husband as much as I did.'

'He's grief-stricken,' she said. 'Forgive him his behaviour. He was with Swann from the beginning of his career. I think he loved my husband as much as I did.'

'Now I think I didn't know him at all,' she went on, 'didn't understand him. I think maybe it was another trick. Another part of his magic.'

'The letter,' she repeated.

'I'd think sometimes-it was a kind of miracle that he let me into his life . . .'

'We were only over for three months, while his show ran. We were going back in September . . .'

'I'd think sometimes-it was a kind of miracle that he let me into his life . . .'

Valentin had re-appeared, his lugubrious features rife with suspicion. He carried an envelope, which he clearly had no desire to give up. Dorothea had to cross the carpet and take it from his hands.

Valentin had re-appeared, his lugubrious features rife with suspicion. He carried an envelope, which he clearly had no desire to give up. Dorothea had to cross the carpet and take it from his hands.

'He's grief-stricken,' she said. 'Forgive him his behaviour. He was with Swann from the beginning of his career. I think he loved my husband as much as I did.'

'May I ask . . . your name?'

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