| OCR Text |
Show 40, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 4] And to be cross. Like one day when he was trying to be almost uncharacteristically pleasant, there came a slipshod padding on the stair, he half-noticed her walk mannishly by, in the form of her mother, and coming from the habitat, out by the toaster and the dryer and the applicances - although he was sure he had chosen a lady, he thought he heard the mumble of a tiger. But in all fairness. There would be more good days. Like when he'd come in from afternoon football practice and she was waiting so pleased. "The high school kids left this for you." "This note." "Right." "Gosh it looks like some sort of a treasure map. . "Uh-huh, I was giving it my best Nancy Drew--" "Honey I know what this is!" "--old tree, mound. Fifteen paces--" "The well! They're up there on Key Largo digging at that old freshwater well, you see I read about it in the first partial edition of the newspaper that came out after the storm, about what people thought was maybe a shift in the water table--" "--fifteen paces east, we dig. That's cute." "Honey I've got to get up there--" "Fine, but dinner. . ." |
