It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. ” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside.
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