” She stopped. The boat rocked violently with the struggle. They decided quite audibly, “She’s an Old Dear, anyhow. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. I kicked the living shit out of him. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads.
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