“It rests with them by the nature of things. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. “Mere sensuality. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. But I never betray an old customer. I love my husband. Don’t imagine that. Ramage’s bitterness passed as abruptly as his aggression. Yet he stays. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her.
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