We dine at seven-thirty. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. ’ Jack gasped. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all. Wood. “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed.
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