“Hola Marteen!” She exclaimed cheerfully. “Shut up, you little faggot. Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. It was intolerable to think that he might overhear words and phrases. ” “You alarm me,” she murmured, smiling.
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