” An awkward moment of silence followed. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. Amiable and good-looking. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. ” She shook her head. “You let him touch you!” John whispered back.
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