" "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. " "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know. But there was a face pressed to the glass. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. The woman shrugged her shoulders. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. Things got hot and heavy in the car the next night, and he peeled off her skirt and top to reveal her underwear. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river.
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