"And now, mark me. Ah, Thierry and Poussaint, if my memory serves me. . No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. To her, marriage would be a buckler against the two evils which pursued her. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks.
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