CHAPTER XXIV. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. Your aunt liked the pheasant. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald.
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