Ed. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not.
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