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’ Roding looked struck. She pulled him by his tee shirt, pulling his mouth to her nipple. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. ‘You are related to General Lord Charvill?’ ‘Monsieur le baron, he is my grandpére,’ she confirmed. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said.
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