You are my slave—and such you shall continue. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. I came to see you on my own account.
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