The weed was all right. “Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. ” She pulled her dress back over her breasts, glad for the elastic that she had sewn in. “Just leave them with me for now, Clotilde. You simply can’t. It was the grand nursery of vice. “Every one. ’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. ” “Ye—e—es. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. And then, “They seem changed. " "Couldn't … couldn't I go with you this afternoon?" "Too hot.
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