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And I want you for myself—for my wife. She saw his face change, how he regretted. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. Besides, my husband has shares in Sir John’s company. On that basis alone, he had no right to give or accept love. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. You have taken even my knife.
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