Then he threw the letter at me. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. ” “Thank you,” Anna answered.
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