She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. Blueskin, you are a true friend. “What he had was altogether insufficient. The roofs and gables of many of the houses had been torn off. “That’s not. "Ruth?" Silence for a moment.
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