She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. ’ ‘In any event,’ Gerald told her, with a grin, ‘I can’t marry this one. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced.
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