And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. Think of those days in Paris. He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary. A few seconds sufficed to clear the passage, through which it had previously cost him more than two hours to force his way.
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