. ’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight. I struck him across the face, jumped out and went back by train to Paris. Now, more than ever, it was time to start running. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house.
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