I cannot let you go. ” It was as if she faced a darkness in which was something very beautiful and wonderful as yet unimagined. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. He pulled her from him to kiss her on the mouth and paused, looking into her face. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. “Where are we going?” Lucy asked desperately as Michelle began to twitch with greater frequency.
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