The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. “Great, Cathy. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. Giles's round-house. Lonesomeness isn't my worry.
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