Sunday, August 28, 2011
The heroine has just run away from her wedding and is en route to her honeymoon destination, sans groom, being transported to a private island by a very irksome seaplane pilot…
“Not too late to swim, if you’re offended by the service.”
“No, thank you, though I suspect I’ll be sitting in the cabin on the way back.”
“Probably wise—my old man was a cabbie in New York,” Will said. “My gifts of customer service are purely genetic.”
“A very rare and malicious disorder, I’m sure. Thank goodness you’re not contagious.”
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