She bounced onto her bottom. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. The morning swims in the lagoon had thickened the red corpuscle. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark.
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