Shocked and appalled, she brought her left knee up fast, ramming his testicles swiftly. He dropped the key on the counterpane. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town.
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