Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. He is the kind of man who would much prefer a little dust in his eyes. ‘There is Bernadette, Marie-Thérèse, Marie-Joséphine, Marie-Claire, Henriette—’ Exasperated, Gerald seized her by the shoulders. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. He yelled to her, asking her if she wished to have a drink with him, which she refused.
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