Of course you say no. You find some madly polite way of doing it, as usual. I love you. I do. And in an hour all this will be forgiven. But you’re lucky I speak to you. You’re lucky I make time in my life for you. When I’m an old woman I will live on a mountain and be inaccessible to anyone who can’t climb it. That is how lucky you are, William. Because you happen to know me at a time in my life when I need the company. In the future I am much more picky.
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