Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. “And if she can’t have the right one? “We’ve developed such a quality of preference!” She rubbed her knuckles into her forehead. ’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely. I hate what I am. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table.
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