” He leaned back for his soup. ‘What you can do, Lucy, rather than make enquiries, is introduce me to this comte and comtesse. ” She let him make love to her that night. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. He patted the hand on his sleeve. “The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober.
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