1. A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her. Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. Anyhow, that is how things are. Now I know that you don’t live as close to the Beck house as you once pretended.
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