‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. “I didn’t understand, Vee. ” She laughed. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. “I want you to kiss me,” she said. His car, a black Alfa Romeo, waited at the end of the subdivision.
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