He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. He thanked God for this talent of his. “Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. ” His face darkened. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams.
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