Tell me . . . just one thing . . . about your time?' he managed to get out.'Of course,' Etta said.'Do you remember . . . that couple in London, in the station?''The ones who were dancing?' she asked. 'What about them?''Would we . . . be able to dance . . . that way?' he said, finding it harder to catch his breath. 'In your time?'Etta pressed her lips together, clearly fighting to offer him a smile. 'Yes.' 'Though so.
-Alexandra Bracken
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