‘I do not steal,’ declared the lady hotly. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. She kissed his neck and licked him there. She dismissed the idea of doing so.
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