He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. She opened it and imbibed. "Be so good as to let Caliban out, Mr. We have to hang about in the interval. Get a license—just an idea of mine. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner.
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