“Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. ’ She shook her head. “No!” Her thoughts had turned in a new direction. “Sir John of course disapproves of me,” she remarked slowly. There all the loose characters thronged, assignations were openly made, and the spectators diverted themselves with the vagaries of its miserable inhabitants. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture.
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