At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. "I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. Maggot. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes. Imbecile.
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