CHAPTER XII. ’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald. The Times slipped from his fingers. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. Here were the passionate lovers! What their past had been he neither cared nor craved to know. I'll lay my life he's gone. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. “You haven’t come here to make a lot of difficulties?” she asked. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence.
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