’ ‘Yes, but I’m afraid I am far too interested to stop mixing myself in your affairs,’ Gerald said ruefully. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. , or that she had a care in the world. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not.
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