His eyes caught at hers with passionate inquiries. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. ‘Ah, the tragedy. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. She—She can snub him.
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