It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. " "Ah, yes; that coat. He has been a father to me and my child. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. Gerald began to ease forward, deciding just how he would accost her. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. “After all, why should he be surprised?” she remarked. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. A shaft of searing heat plunged downward. F.
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