He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. By a sort of instinct. Do you mind talking to some one else. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. God, how old are they now? They must be teenagers.
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