She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. Hitherto, no visiters had been permitted to see him. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. . They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. ’ A derisive snort greeted this passage. I don’t suggest any philanthropy. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. ” “But—This bolt from the blue! My God! Ann Veronica, you don’t understand.
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