“You’re exactly as I remember you!” “Forever fifteen, remember?” She stepped closer to him into the light of the television screen. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left.
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