As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. ’ Madame ventured a glance up at his face, and fluttered her lashes. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands.
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