She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. But, rather than be the cause of any further misunderstanding between you and my benefactor, I will leave London and its neighbourhood for ever. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. I’m sorry Lucy. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind.
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