Sebastian was physically beautiful, she reflected. She thought she had hidden well from him. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. He—wanted to marry me. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly.
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