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datatime: 2022-12-04 05:57:00 Author:CdIHeCyo

'Did you ever see his performance?'

'He used to call himself the Great Pretender,' she said. The thought made her smile.

'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.'

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'm sorry. My name is Swann, Mr. D'Amour. Dorothea Swann. You may have heard of my husband?'

'Is this wise?' he said.

'About it being an accident.'

'Don't blame New York,' he said. 'It can't help itself.'

'May I ask . . . your name?'

'Don't blame New York,' he said. 'It can't help itself.'

'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.'

'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.'

'He used to call himself the Great Pretender,' she said. The thought made her smile.

'I'm sorry. My name is Swann, Mr. D'Amour. Dorothea Swann. You may have heard of my husband?'

'I read about it. Tragic.'

'The letter,' she repeated.

'But you don't believe it?'

'Is this wise?' he said.

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.

'I read about it. Tragic.'

'Oh yes. I lived with Swann seven and a half years, and I got to understand him as well as anybody ever could. I learned to sense when he wanted me around, and when he didn't. When he didn't, I'd take myself off somewhere and let him have his privacy. Genius needs privacy. And he was a genius, you know. The greatest illusionist since Houdini.'

'Don't blame New York,' he said. 'It can't help itself.'

'I'm sorry. My name is Swann, Mr. D'Amour. Dorothea Swann. You may have heard of my husband?'

Harry wanted to say Swann would have been mad not to have done so, but the comment was inappropriate. She didn't want blandishments; didn't need them. Didn't need anything, perhaps, but her husband alive again.

He turned on his heel and made a smart withdrawal.

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