Forget if you can [antikvár]

FORGET IF YOU CAN Part One FLIGHT FROM YESTERDAY This man and this woman were friends of mine. I had their story from each of them separately in flashes as it were of summer lightning, brief and savage unveilings of lives habitually discreet. That they spoke out at all, suggests what a welter of feeling they tried to smother. Do I betray a confidence by writing it down? I confess to some doubt. Yet the story has, I am convinced, import of value to our time, and I think I see a way to share it with you. If I tell it exactly as it was told to me, he and she will never recognize it. Did you ever know your own words when they came back to you? Since I shall confine myself strictly to the truth, my account must be somewhat uneven. The first section of it I had from Marguerite, from Lattimer, and from personal observation, but chiefly from Marguerite, She