Part 7 Then one day a little thing happened that clothed itself in significance. Later he dispatched a cable announcing the escape and the sending of the letter. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. It’s—it’s a serious prohibition.
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