” “My wife was astounded—wounded beyond measure. She drew his penis out of the strange little vent in his boxer shorts. I have counted you, and always hoped to count you, the best of my friends. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me.
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