She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. There has never been a white woman at McClintock's. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. He figures them out, though. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him.
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