Hastily, he reached for the door. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. Not wisely but too well. It depends upon what he was before he began this racket.
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