It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. “And you brought her a man, I presume. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. ” Sir John’s head bent lower and lower. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed.
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