Do not mistake me. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage. ” Capes suddenly abandoned his attitude of meditative restraint.
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