It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. She says she will have to, though she does not wish to. How old are you?” She asked.
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