Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. We just hit against each other, and here we are flying off at a tangent, a little surprised at what we are doing, all our principles abandoned, and tremendously and quite unreasonably proud of ourselves. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s.
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