“My word holds,” she said. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. "I should like to meet the man who would dare to gainsay it. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. “I wanted to go to an art-student ball of which he disapproved. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets.
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