He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. Ask your own conscience. . You’ll end there one day, mark my words. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. Look somewhere else in life. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. “Thank you,” she said coolly.
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