She pulled, he rose to his feet. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ‘Don’t lose your temper again. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband.
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