Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport. Why should God give particular attention to such a prayer, when He had ignored all others? Certainly there was a trap somewhere. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully.
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