She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. She let him take off her skirt as she ritualistically removed his jeans along with his boxers. The face that looked down upon Ann Veronica was full of amiable intention. “What has she told you?” “Everything.
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