He dropped the key on the counterpane. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. "I had no thought of injuring your wife, and would have died rather than commit so foul a crime. “Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. “We’ll have to watch a movie down here. He was struck disagreeably by Ramage’s air of gallant consideration and Ann Veronica’s self-possessed answers. He was asleep. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. 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.
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