Page 391 - Anonymous
P. 391
dashing companion says. I enjoy these
exchanges because they show me a
different side of Finch. A side I quite
like.
They run through the wrought iron
gates of a small park off Priory around
five-thirty, it's still quiet out, only a
handful of joggers in the street, most of
them women, who tend to prefer the road
to the secluded path of the park. I wait a
few minutes, catching my breath. I'm in
