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The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. . CHAPTER I. I got a rusty bolt cutter. ‘She wouldn’t tell me. There is worse to come. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. . It was just then that she came face to face with Nigel Ennison.
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