’ Gerald was staring at her, an arrested expression on his face. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. Wood, "it may be poisoned. He flipped the television on. .
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