Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. You're a queer lad. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive. “You’re exactly as I remember you!” “Forever fifteen, remember?” She stepped closer to him into the light of the television screen. “After all, it’s our honeymoon. “You can look as innocent and shocked as you please. She had never heard anything so unholy. ‘Jacques?’ she called.
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