It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. “There is a secret. 1. ‘You are wise, Marthe. . Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. And now I break the seals—for you. “Michelle, I think that you are the victim of an extremely overactive imagination. A moistened velvet touch found her tongue. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world.
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