Passing thought. He had been frozen in time at age forty-two. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died.
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