Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. ‘You wish a life of obedience? So be it, Mademoiselle Charvill. "It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. " "You…. ‘Take this.
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