Montressor’s guests were. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. The Dawn Pearl; how well they had named her! The pearl without price—his and not his! He took her arm and drew it under his; and together they went down the veranda steps.
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