What his head conceived his hand executed. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. Suddenly she had become afraid.
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