He dreamed about her often--once had even dreamed that she was sleeping near him. To her eye he was the spitting image of Captain Call, built the same way, and with the same movements. Maybe he was leaving her for the buzzards, but she felt she would rather die than say something that might anger him. We've put it off too long, hoping Bob would get back on his feet.
He had been thinking the same thing. Then he stepped back and pulled up his pants. I can't do much under all this mud. Just let it be.
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