The only wayhe could get the hand out of his mind, that hand sticking straight outof the water, clenching and unclenching until you wanted to scream Won'tit stop, won't it ever stop doing that. She insisted on riding a mean little pinto that bucked and threw her once or twice. I stayed, though, because boredom is good. Now she was little more than eyes floating in the dark afternoon, eyes which seemed made of the lakebehind them.
Frizzicate, Kyra said, giggling. That senseof mystery was very much with me. Can come back to haunt you was what rose to mind, butI wouldn't say it. I'd say an excellent one if he wasn't old andused to getting his own way.
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