82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. She was struck by a change in his appearance. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. “He says you are frigid, Madame. “Or I wouldn’t have said anything about it.
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