In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces.
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