The three young men exchanged expressive glances. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. She might even forgive him. ‘Merci, dieu. Take your pick, Mrs. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. It cuts. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him.
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