‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. Diane Vorsack tried to disguise the fact that she was livid, her daughter’s buffoonery having driven off the prestigious dinner guests before the after-dinner drinks could be served. He was not able to recognize, as the doctor did, that she was only a natural woman. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. His glance came up again and met hers. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. At this moment, Blueskin came up, and kept off the officers with his knife. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered.
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