‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. She opened the door with a neon colored key. This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey Hill or not. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist.
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