They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. “Nigel, don’t you understand. \"I'll have to ask Cathy, you know my foster mother? I have not been asked on a date before. You refuse me your confidence. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side.
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