A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. In this state, he contrived to get the poor black's hand into his mouth, and nearly bit off one of his fingers before the sufferer could be rescued. Gerald’s temper flared. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. Yeah, I’m thirty-seven. “We can be alone?” She inquired. \"Can I get your ticket?\" He asked her as she approached the vendor.
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