It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. "Come on, my lads!" vociferated Blueskin, "we'll unkennel the old fox.
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