She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. “Please stop fighting me. There is the key. Would you like to borrow some of my clothes? I think we're about the same size. Aware of his father's inflexibility of purpose, he set his wits to work to defeat the design. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. But none ever puts his foot on this boat. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish.
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