Taking a firm grasp of his pistol, Gerald eased back, let go the handle of the door, and at the same instant, swung his booted foot. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. . ” She said, rubbing Lucy’s back.
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