“It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight,” Brendon exclaimed, as he hastened across the street. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Sheppard. She interrupted. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse.
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