Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious, one should preserve it.
As they climbed into their saddles, Myron bowed his head and muttered a soft prayer. “There,” Hadrian told Royce, “we’ve got Maribor on our side. Now you can relax. ” “Actually,” Myron said sheepishly, “I was praying for the horses. But I will pray for you as well,” he added hastily.