She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. Probably she was married years ago and is now merely on the way to her husband's house. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts. A. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures.
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