The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. ‘You could have fetched me home. Listen to me, Winifred. It cost her seventy-seven dollars. In the flagged entrance hallway at the bottom, where extra light came in from a window above the double doors, it was easy enough to distinguish a family group, and a landscape which clearly included Remenham House in the distance.
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