It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. "Hear the letter," said Ireton, breaking the seal. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. ’ A hand seemed to grip in Melusine’s chest and she hit out.
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