Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. The reward is mine. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. It seemed to emanate from the back of the house. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. “Call it warning, if you like.
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