A Short Story : A Story?

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Doctor Pax was on his way to the windmill after breakfast. The first person he met was Clemmie with Clog at her side. She stood in the glass tunnel and looked at Spud as he worked in the kitchen garden. The gardener was dressed for wet weather in a thick coat which reached below his knees. His waterproof trousers were tucked into long wellington boots. He waved his muddy hand, and Clemmie waved back with a smile. Clog woofed. He tried to lick the rain when it ran in drops down the window. He hadn't figured out the rain was on the outside. As Clemmie turned to walk on, Doctor Pax placed a hand on her shoulder. 'Good morning,' he said, ‘Have you seen Mosaic?’ 'G’morning, Doctor Pax.' He looked down at her and sensed something was wrong. ‘…’ Doctor Pax bent on one knee and stared into her face. And stared. And stared some more. 'Hmm? You either tell me what's wrong or I'll tickle it out of you. Which is it to be?' He could tell she wanted to speak, but something held her back. There was confusion written all over her face. Tell him, or tell him not. Tell him, or tell him not. She looked away, blushed, looked at him, blushed again, then looked away. He didn't have to wait for long. She fidgeted, then blurted out, 'I met a strange man last night so I followed him.' 'Ahh, did you indeed?' He knew exactly who she meant. 'I watched him go into your study, so I thought you would know him.' 'You’re right, Clemmie. I know him well.' 'Then I saw Mosaic behind me,'

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