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Summary
“There is no beautiful thing I wouldn’t find wonderful and lovely.” Henry ran hand through his hair, dishevelled after the night, but it fell right back into his eyes when he sat down in armchair by the window.
“All the tragic things?”
“It’s even lovelier then.”
Basil laughed, searching for cigarettes in pocket of his jacket that was slung from the bedstead.
“I know you so terribly well, Harry.”
.
.
.
Over the time.
