Manning. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. It was the grand nursery of vice. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest.
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