Did you hear about the man who was half Portagee and half Italian? He made himself an offer he couldn't understand.
I think she saw that I was disappointed, and a trifle shy at going alone, so off we went together —Charmion a marvel of unobtrusive elegance in grey, and I "taking the eye” in sapphire-blue—along the breezy lane, past the closed gates of Uplands, through the shuttered High Street into the tiny square, in a corner of which the church was nooked, with the vicarage garden adjoining the churchyard.
Disjointed thoughts ran jumblingly through her head.
It was what had attracted me to her in the first place. You can say something, I said. I'm easy to talk to. She frowned. The last time we had a private talk, in her kitchen, she admitted to playing me for a fool, making me fall in love with her, and breadcrumbing my way to discovering a deadly necromantic artifact.
You can say something,
I'm easy to talk to.
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