Michelle tossed her hair like a young colt flicking its tail. ” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence.
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