" The stranger was for a moment lost in reflection. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. He handed Ruth a letter. ‘That is my mother. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. . ’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. . The Supper at Mr.
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