” He crossed his arms. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. I don’t care if you’re not a virgin, that’s not how I really am. ‘You should be. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. She noticed an odd new gleam in Michelle’s eyes, a focus she had not noticed before.
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