You don’t know about Mary because you live in Kent. Marry me. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. ” “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” He accused. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell.
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