He was not used to not getting his way. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. “Why should one pretend? “Think of all the beauty in the world that is covered up and overlaid. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. ‘And this is where you have been all the time?’ ‘I would have been back in a day, I promise you. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. But I am not indisposed to gratify you. ‘Possibly,’ he said.
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