"Bread for breakfast or air, cherie?" Bossuet calls back over his shoulder.
"Only if you promise you'll wash your hands first. Or, better yet, use tongs and a knife and don't touch it. You always get things on bread that make me ill."
"Suppose I kiss it all over first?"
"Bossuet!"
"Don't worry." He smiles to himself as he tears off a piece of bread with his (washed) hands. "If there are things on the bread that make a fellow ill, I'm going to be the one who suffers them."
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"Bread for breakfast or air, cherie?" Bossuet calls back over his shoulder.
"Only if you promise you'll wash your hands first. Or, better yet, use tongs and a knife and don't touch it. You always get things on bread that make me ill."
"Suppose I kiss it all over first?"
"Bossuet!"
"Don't worry." He smiles to himself as he tears off a piece of bread with his (washed) hands. "If there are things on the bread that make a fellow ill, I'm going to be the one who suffers them."
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