To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. “Not much. “It is unimportant,” she said. "Five guineas. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. Wood and several serving-men, all well armed, rushed into the room. She is no longer mine; she is yours. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly.
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