‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. She covered herself with her arms. ‘I knew it. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. What she actually wanted was the present state of affairs to continue indefinitely. "There's no outlet that way. ‘Don’t be silly. “No, I’m not a virgin.
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