I wish i wrote this, but I didn't. Happy reading! They had grown up next door to each other, on the fringe of a city, near fields and woods and orchards, within sight of a lovely bell tower that belonged to a school for the blind. Now they were twenty, had not seen each other for nearly a year. There had always been playful, comfortable warmth between them, but never any talk of love. His name was Newt. Her name was Catharine. In the early afternoon, Newt knocked on Catharine's front door. Catharine came to the door. She was carrying a fat, glossy, magazine devoted entirely to brides. "Newt!" she said. She was surprised to see him."Could you come for a walk?" he said. He was a shy person, even with Catharine. He covered his shyness by speaking absently, as though what really concerned him were far away--as though he were a secret agent pausing briefly on a mission between beautiful, distant, and sinister points. This manner of speaking had always been Newt...