’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally. Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. You go cheer him up. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine. Thank him, not me, man. . Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings.
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