. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. But Darrell averted his head. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. “Ciao, Fragolina. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. It will be altogether you.
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