“All right, Dunster,” he said. You two can talk in Lucy and Shar’s room for a few minutes. 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’m not Gerald, remember. ” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words.
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