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‘Me, I do not need the help of anyone. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction. She unlaced his pants and slid them down his hips, examining him as he stood before her naked. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. I've no doubt he's as honest as either of you. He seemed to possess infinite reserves of patience when she refused him or purposely tried to bait and anger him, but his patience only made him seem more sinister. ’ She saw suspicion darken his gaze.
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