Morality is a point of view. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. Enough to let her find out a piece of information most urgent. To her chagrin, he ignored her, and turned a venomous eye on his betrothed. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies.
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