’ Joan sniffed. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. ’ Sheer exasperation made Gerald release her as he broke into reluctant laughter. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. —Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it.
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