[He cradled his umbrella against his shoulder and pulled his own journal from his bag to examine. Salt and sand from its encounter with the sea still clung to the pages of fit, and stuck to his fingers as he opened it for further study. His name, written on it in neat, friendly letters, was a clear show that it was indeed his.]
The people who run this place, of course...[The answer was quiet, almost thoughtless, before he looked up at her with obvious questions in his eyes.]
action
The people who run this place, of course...[The answer was quiet, almost thoughtless, before he looked up at her with obvious questions in his eyes.]
You're saying that this book is like a cellphone?