“She’s my wife,” the man muttered. Lovers' confidences should be respected. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically. I’ve got no feminine class feeling.
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