“The man is dangerous. ’ Gerald could not suppress a grin. He smiled complacently. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. Come along, you mad jade. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek.
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