Saturday, December 5, 2009

Kumiko had never seen bolts of bright cloth Chinese handtools Japanese cosmetics. . . . Pausing by that bright window the display of tints and blushes her own.

Of Merlot for a sip-and took half of it in one thick swallow. 28 Like a shrine to Martha Stewart goddess of the modern American home. Two floor lamps with fringed silk shades. Two big armchairs with footstools facing each other across a tea table. Needlepoint pillows on the chairs. The living-room fireplace to one side. This was Martie's favorite spot in the house. Many nights during the past three years she and Dusty had sat here with books.
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Fisherman. 'So that's it. Young Bill were buying stores and petrol and all yesterday enough for a navy but nobody couldn't get it out of him who they was for. Tidy old boat that'n - cruisin' I suppose. Can't see what he made all the mystery about. ' began to walk along the quay: a rolling small figure with the folded tops of his boots slapping his legs at every step. Barney trotted beside him talking earnestly and rejoined the others at the corner as the old man waving to them turned off towards the village. 'His name's Mr Penhallow and his boat's called the White Heather. He says they got a hundred stone of pilchard last night and they'll get more tomorrow because it's going to rain. ' 'One day you'll ask too many questions ' said Jane. 'Rain?' said Simon incredulously looking up at the blue sky. 'That's what he said' 'Rubbish. He must be nuts. ' .
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