She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. This intercourse, which had been planned to warm Ann Veronica to a familiar affection with Ramage, was certainly warming Ramage to a constantly deepening interest in Ann Veronica. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. He admitted that it would bore him to dally here in Canton, with the pleasures of Hong-Kong so close. I don’t think you understand.
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