She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. "That's odd. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. “I’ve tried to make words tell it. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep.
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