Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. Never before had any human being kissed her lips. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. "Do you take me for as great a villain as yourself, Sir?" said the knight, rising. "But trifle with mo no longer.
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