"I've lost my wager. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. “I would rather put up with your own efforts, however clumsy. ‘Did you sigh and flutter your eyelashes?’ ‘Certainly I did. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. In a few minutes, an appalling change was perceptible. . For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. "Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society.
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