As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. ’ A laugh escaped her. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise.
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