It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. He tells me that you will not even see him. She refrained. You've got me interested and curious. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. Even Lucy’s bra and panties, the ubiquitous polyester underwire and matching cotton bikini briefs from Kmart, were gone. Even now she was dazed. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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