Three words and somehow you have a sense of a quietly marred and even agonizing life.

‘My last memory of St George was that of the single table nearby, its occupant clearly identifiable by her voice and style – one of the modern world’s wanderers, desolate in her well-heeled pain, a temporarily shocked casualty of American divorce. Tense, attractive, in her early thirties, but too young to be just a jolly widow, she sat staring across her coffee at the sea.’

Source: Laurie Lee, I Can’t Stay Long (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1977 ((1975)), p. 219

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