The Boat Went Smoothly Through the Water

Amy and laurie had been floating about all the morning, from gloomy saint gingulf to sunny montro. They had been talking of bonavard and of rousseau as they looked up at clarence where he rode his eloise. Neither had read it, but they knew it was a love story, and each privately wondered if it was half as interesting as their own. When she looked up, laurie was leaning on his oars with an expression in eyes that made her say hastily, merely for the sake of saying something, you must be tired. Rest a little and let me row. It will do me good. For since you came, i've