She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. ” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. They were sure to catch up with her. Then her fingers moved. Making up a similar story to that which he had told the old woman, he said he wanted to purchase a hammer and a file. Although she did not understand why he persisted in this pursuit of her affairs. He hated himself a little for it. Her attenuated arms were crossed upon her breast; and her black brows and eyelashes contrasted fearfully with the livid whiteness of her skin. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. I’ve never found them hostile. At last—I told a story. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall.
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