Sodown he walked to the bridge, his topsiders flappingquickly under him. The sound of the brook, more of asmall river now that the spring torrents had...come,drowned out the sound of his footsteps, and hers. Hefelt a hard push in the small of his back. “Don’t even try moving, Lucky,” said someone frombehind him, in a voice which implied that luck, goodluck, anyway, was not about to be involved. For amoment, he was taken aback by the voice — and then herealized it was. She must get to Boston.When she returned, he held forth her glass of wine and she took it."You drink wine at home, eh?" He grinned. "You Canucks like your wine... I know about that."Madeleine didn't answer him. The fact was, they were allowed only small amounts with meals, but she saw no reason to tell him this... or anything. She took a long swallow, hoping its effect would be to soothe, even dull her senses for what was to come."Go ahead, drink up," Keel said. "Have all you want: it's good. More

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