When I think of it—” “But these are things I want to tell you now!” “I made a little song of it. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. Three short days. I was always told my mother died the day I was born. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose.
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