The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places. But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. There was so much to see, so much to do, that he became what he had once been normally, a lovable boy. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright.
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