Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. I have never spoken of these things to any human being. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. “A little touchy this evening, aren’t we, Missy?” Michelle chided her friend. “Sure, are you sure you’re okay?” He exited off the highway onto a quiet road and pulled over.
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