’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. " The Wastrel laughed. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. “We have a small studio,” she murmured, “in the Rue de St. So soft. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror.
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