“She knew something else as well. If she put enough steps in line, one after the other, she would get there – to the ticket booth, to Bletchley, to the rest of her life – without crumbling into pieces. In the grand scheme of things, losing Philip wasn’t remotely important. Not in a world where there were invasions of Europe being planned, where millions around the globe were dying. It didn’t matter at all that she felt like she was being torn apart inside by white-hot pincers.”
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