But I could hear pride in her voice.The three toughs turned to face me. One of them, a puffing, round faced man whose cheeks had gone red and flushed ...ith his sport, spoke up first: “What are you looking at, limey?”“Well,” I started.But before I could continue – and I was not entirely certain what I had planned to do, beyond distract them long enough for the prone figure to escape or scramble away. But the prone figure it seemed had a different plan. From the mass of cloth and tattered rags, a. ." A wide-eyed innocent look, laughter in his eyes."What about you?" Oh, I'm fine. Sweet dreams. What did you dream about?"The question was simple, thrown like a smooth, perfect stone into a plate-glass window. She blanched, started to say something, hesitated. She'd dreamt of him last night. He was looking at her, the innocent look gone, his eyes staring straight back at her, pinning her, daring her to deny what he already knew.She blinked, took a sip of coffee to cover herself, and mentally. More

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