His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. Norris, she revived a little. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. ‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary.
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