She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. “It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence.
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