Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. "The poor young man!" she said. “Sure, are you sure you’re okay?” He exited off the highway onto a quiet road and pulled over. “I’m not so sure. Let’s go on climbing now. They thought that she was her own mother. I can’t help it.
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