There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. "What is a sing-song girl?" she asked. “It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly. But Sheppard was not to be silenced.
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