She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory.
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