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But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. “It is you alone, Nigel, who have saved me from being an old maid. And so, here we are, right back from where we started. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. And on Monday and Tuesday she had failed to find him here.
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