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“I thought truth could never be dissected.”
Hershel smiled that crooked grin, which caught at her heart and snuffed out a cigarette he had forgotten was burning in his hand. “You are absolutely right, my darling.” Then his eyes grew wistful. “The question is, do we really want the truth?”
Oh, Hershel, Hershel, she thought, reaching inside her purse and slipping out a cigarette. As the pungent Turkish tobacco was drawn into her lungs, she turned her mind to more mundane things. She would shop furiously. She did not want a single stitch of underclothing, outerwear, shoes, hats, and so forth that she now owned to be taken to Austria for her meeting with Hershel. All must be new, not belonging to another time or place. As she herself would be coming to him.
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