“He wiped his forehead with an arm, checked the gray streak left there, tossed his gloves aside, and ambled across the school yard to the pump. Unhooking his suspenders, he sent them swinging, stripped off his shirt, and tossed it aside, then started pumping. With widespread feet he leaned over the stream of pure, icy water that splattered onto the dirt below. Alternately pumping and washing, he doused his face, splashed his chest, arms, and neck, then drank from his cupped palms. When he straig...htened and turned, he found Linnea on the steps, watching him. She stood still as a stork with the fingertips of one hand lightly touching the iron handrail, the other palm clasping her elbow. Their gazes met and locked while he slowly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then became conscious of his bare, wet chest and the suspenders hanging down his thighs. He leaned from the hip and grabbed his flannel shirt from the ground, did a cursory toweling, then slipped it on and began buttoning it, all the while wishing she would move or at least stop staring.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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