’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. It’s these damned novels. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. She slipped her hand between them and grasped his erection.
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