’ With an unexpected flush of pleasure, he recalled the girl’s antics. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. ’ ‘Eh? Why did you not say so, man?’ demanded Hilary crossly. He could scarcely blame her. .
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