"I can escape to France. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. Even Lucy’s bra and panties, the ubiquitous polyester underwire and matching cotton bikini briefs from Kmart, were gone. I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too. I don’t! Please enlighten me. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. Expiation. .
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