“Heavens!” she exclaimed. “Because I hate you!” She spat. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. Like a petulant child he snapped. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. “Thanks, so do you. Passing thought. ’ She pronounced the name with painstaking accuracy, Gerald noticed. Laughed at me, then.
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