It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. "I can't see him. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. Sheppard was committed to the earth. She did not forge a note. Wild on his guard against an assassin. Instead, he was bowing to her greataunt. .
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