Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. He grunted, and his grip gave. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill.
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