She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. "You mistake,—you are mine. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. But after a time I learned the ways of the parrakeets, and they would come down to me like doves in the stories. . ” He paused for a moment, and then suddenly continued. ” “It’s Shari’s work. In the middle there was a gate.
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