Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. Wood fancied he recognised. ” “Nice clean hardness, anyhow. Cathy's eyebrows perked up. Never. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ‘She wants me to marry her. She pulled, he rose to his feet. You can live just about how you like. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months.
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