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Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. He put an arm around her. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. ‘You imbecile. He went more easily this time. "I shall want a bottle or two of sack, and a flask of usquebaugh. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. ‘I left a message at home that he should do so as soon as he returned from Kent.
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