Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. "Mr. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. She passed down the stairs and into the street. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside.
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