With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us. T’weren’t fitting, we knew that. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. ” Brendon hesitated for a moment. They thought that she was her own mother. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. “No,” she answered. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears.
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