She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. She was asked to meet him after his game Saturday afternoon. She crushed the letter in her hand. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. He removed his cocked hat and came towards her. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Surely he was imagining this picture. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. ‘Now then, girl. She stood without motion and without strength. By the intense look of him, she guessed that she had just encountered for the first time the boy genius Martin Chen.
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