He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. And later they paddled in a boat above the mysterious deeps of the See, and peered down into the green-blues and the blue-greens together. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. But to make an arrest to be like a revenge? No, a thousand times.
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