” She looked at him quizzically. “Really, daddy, I am sorry for all I have done to put you out. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. Things got hot and heavy in the car the next night, and he peeled off her skirt and top to reveal her underwear. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities.
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