"Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. ” That conversation ended and he turned to her again.
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