She did not resist him, she could not. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words.
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