We drove to the spring again, accompanied by Debussy's Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. She was giggly. She'd been so all morning. She'd also brought one of her shopping bags with her. I didn't ask. I'm sure I'd find out later. "Stay here for. Oh, I don't know. A while." "Why?" I asked. "Because I asked you too." So I did. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes going by. And then I picked up
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