We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. “May I tell Nigel to come and see you again? I am not here to do his love-making for him, you know. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly.
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