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TIME LINE (Michael Crichton)

The wind whined. A few leaves blew, scraping across the floor. The air was damp and cold. They stool silently.

“I wonder if he thought of us.” Chris said, looking at the stone face. “I wonder if he ever missed us.”

“Of course he did,” the professor said. “Don’t you miss him?”

Chris nodded. Kate sniffed, and blew her nose.

“I do,” Johnson said.

They went back outside. They walked down the hill to the car. By now the rain had entirely stopped. But the clouds had remained dark and heavy, hanging low over the distant hills.