Sublime

ruth

dovetailed:

mien,

Anne wore an old heather mixture tweed suit—it was a good suit, but old enough to have lost its lines and become baggy. With her chestnut brown hair, russet cheeks and heather mixture tweed she looked almost part of the landscape, an appropriate sturdy figure, strong and competent. When Colonel St Cyres saw her, he said, “Thank God.” He always did

I pop my thumb in my mouth and chocolatey-hazelnut goodness explodes on my tongue. I make a faint sound. Charlie’s eyes go hazy. He sways to the side. “I meant here. On the farm. What are you doing on the farm?” “What?” he asks, voice somewhere far away. “Charlie.” “What?” he asks again, yelling a little bit.