She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. Little by little, she stopped hating him. \"Junior prom is in two and a half weeks. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless.
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