“But perhaps I want to confess them. I don’t think they do matter. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. I wouldn't allow you to be honest even if you could be so,—which I doubt. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. But when she reached the pavement outside her teeth were clenched, and she carried herself unconsciously an inch or so higher.
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