The touch of her hands was pleasurable. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr. His frowning gaze came back to her. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. The rest she meant to keep for her immediate necessities. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. Always I have said I will take care of myself, and I have done so.
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