I trust that she will not misunderstand me. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. "I'm your dupe no longer.
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