Better come another morning. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. "How shall I get to you?" "My yacht is in the river. ” There was a strange look in her face, the look of a frightened child. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. ” She paused again. He walked her home.
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