Clémentine
Dearest, you must forgive me, and please please -- I wasn't trying to steal your bologna sandwich, I only wanted to sniff to see if the pickles were sweet. I noticed Theodore staring at you intently, the way he does, knowing you hate sweet pickles. Yes, they spoil even the bread. It is hopeless. I must have been gripped by some mad infatuation -- my only wish was to tell you, Dill, my darling, dill.
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