"I'll gibbet the rascal. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. Goodbye. He grew more ardent, sliding her breasts out of the strapless bodice of her gown. ” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person.
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