Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. She fondled his penis which was stiff and straining against his pants. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. “I didn’t know you were half-Gypsy either. 1.
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