«Of all other things Madeleine might have chosen to do, she had sat down and written Mitchell a letter. She’d said that she enjoyed kissing him and that she had an urge to get off the train and come back to
. She had typed Mitchell’s name and
licked the envelope and typed her return address, so that he could write her
back, so that he knew where to find her, if he wanted to look.
Every letter was a love letter.
Of course, as love letters went, this could have been better. It was not were promising, for instance, that Madeleine claimed not to want to see him for the next half-century.»