The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. “I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. ” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts.
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