An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. “Well,” she said. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. ’ ‘I like that,’ Gerald protested. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill.
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