He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. My parents refuse to pay for my college. But it is my fault. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line.
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