‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves. A sense of loss was amongst us. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. ‘That is very sensible, mon capitaine. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t.
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