” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. But it’s only now I’m able to do it. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. When they made love, he seemed to shift into the realm of possessiveness.
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