" Half an hour later she laid aside the book. Eric Vorsack still toiled at work. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. They flash to and fro, they thrill us with expectancy. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean.
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