The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. ‘But I am perfectly serious,’ he returned in a voice of protest. ‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from. “I shall never be able to thank you. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. She did not try to approach him.
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