Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. “Why?” He inquired. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. Only I am not an acquaintance at all.
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