” “A—what?” Anna asked. He got out of the car and lifted her from the convertible before she could open the door. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. " "No, no! I have had wicked thoughts. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. ‘Trespasses,’ supplied Gerald. By a sort of instinct. ” “It is over for now,” he answered, “but I cannot bear to think that you are subject to this sort of thing. ” “Maybe I should stay away. It ought never to have begun. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid.
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