He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. By instinct. You'll find me at supper.
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