’ ‘I’m hanged if I can make out either of you,’ complained Hilary. " "You'd better," replied Quilt. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. "Dawn Pearl!… come here!" She moved to the side of the bed. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. ” Anna never flinched. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers.
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