Years after the war...after the marriages, the children...the divorces, the books...he had come to paris with his wife. He had phoned her. He was intimidated...his voice trembled... and with trembling...it had found the accent of China again. He knew she'd begun writing books. He had also heard about the younger brother's death. He had been sad for her...and then he hadn't know what to tell her...and then he'd told her...he had told her that it was as before...that he still loved her...that he would never stop loving her...that he would love her until his death...
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