Some one may observe us. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade.
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