‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. “Perhaps you will not object to answering one for me. There was just a minute’s hesitation before they gave her a room. ” He strode away and vanished in the gathering fog. “Thank Heaven, they are bringing the hors d’oeuvres. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. He added, ‘Also others, but I don’t recall them. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was.
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